


Clarity Line

by SimonBlackchill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Brother Feels, Dialogue Heavy, Discrimination of Omnics, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fictional World, Fluff, Genyatta - Freeform, Human Genji Shimada, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mention of dead parent, Mondatta is a good caring brother, Omnic Rights, Other, Post-Omnic Crisis, Prank Calls, References to Canon, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Swearing, TV Psychic AU, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Zenyatta, ambiguous setting, descriptions of violence, mention of domestic violence that has not actually happened, mentions of untagged characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-12-17 18:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimonBlackchill/pseuds/SimonBlackchill
Summary: Genji Shimada is the bored 20-year-old son of the prestigious businessman Sojiro Shimada. To the annoyance of Genji's older brother, his interests only include teacher studies, doing parkour, and prank calling a TV psychic duo of Omnics, Tekhartha Zenyatta and Tekhartha Mondatta. Zenyatta, in particular, begins worrying about this frequent caller, who has the same voice but different, somewhat odd problems every time. Genji soon finds that the only one taking him seriously is someone whose sole job, in his eyes, is to scam people.





	1. Chapter 1

Like a hammer, the clock's ticking slammed into Genji's brain. Like a nearby plane, the hum of the table fan drilled into his senses. He had not counted the ticks of the clock or rounds of the fan, but his sighs of frustration that day had been numerous. Coursework waited on his desk, and his phone buzzed time and time again. His muscles ached after a long run, and the drips of water that fell from his long hair made the back of his shirt wet.

Otherwise he would have picked the phone to maybe send a snap or two, but he didn't want to see notifications from his family just then. His chest felt too heavy anyhow.

It was the same time of day whenever the idea hit him. He grinned and reached for the remote, opened the TV screen and browsed through channels. He had at least seventy channels in the TV contract, and he watched one of them once a week when the movie night was on.

"Come on, ya gotta be..."

The hideous colour combinations, the cheap fonts and the screen crammed with changing graphics arrived. Genji lifted his hands up in the air and hit his palm with his knuckles, cracking them promptly.

"...on! Yes!"

He fumbled for his phone after all and ignored an incoming phone call. He threw himself on the sofa, carefully to not knock over a half-empty cup of instant noodles on the floor. He leaned to his arm and settled to lie down on his side, and with a mischievous grin he turned up the volume.

He liked to listen to the program for a while before calling in himself. The music was awful, the graphics looked like they were made by an unpaid intern who had found out that their favourite coffee shop had run out of almond milk. In other words, just as awful as the music. The number for any possible callers was written in the biggest font, and underneath it the producers had placed the cost of every call.

Genji saw the cost, and he knew it very well. He still typed the number on his phone, and again considered saving the number, and again rejected the idea. This was just every now and then - not a regular hobby.

It took him a moment to catch the basics of the current conversation. The voice of the host was a low, metallic one - obviously, for the host was an Omnic robot. The nine blue lights on his forehead formed a rectangle, not a tilted one, so Genji knew which one of the two popular hosts he was.

Though, "popular" was the wrong word. They just tended to get more callers than the human psychics that sometimes invaded air time.

_"...and I believe what you should seek, ultimately, is forgiveness."_

Genji scoffed. Again? This "forgiving Christ Almighty"-spiel had been going on for weeks with this Omnic.

_"Thank you, Zenyatta. I don't know how I'll do that exactly, but... I feel lighter now. Better."_

_"Peace be upon you, Peter. May happiness and peace of mind find a nest within your soul. And do call us back if the problem persists."_

The voice of the caller sounded like it had been spread thin, like he danced on the verge of tears. _"Peace be upon you."_

The sound of a call ending got Genji hovering his fingertips upon the call button. The Omnic called Zenyatta spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, the loose sleeve of his cape or toga or whatever straightening from his lap.

 _"I eagerly await for our next caller. As we just heard, the Iris sometimes grants a feeling of ease only from hearing the distress being said out loud in your own words."_ Genji snorted. Zenyatta placed his hands over his chest. Genji noted that his light robe looked cheap, almost raggedy, and did not fit with the heavy drapings behind him.

_"Do remember that you may call our other psychics as well, for we all are at your disposal. We are here to help you."_

Genji felt his soul shrivel up with shame for the casters of the show. He had tuned in during one of those rare moments that anybody called. During the quiet moments, the host would have to read the text messages that would pop up on the screen, discuss the previous call, or talk about anything related to what Genji thought of as total bullshit: the spirit.

And another one appeared - a question about destiny. A question that Genji had heard before, read before. Wondered before - though he would never admit it.

 _"What is fate, asks one of our viewers via a text message. Ah! What an interesting question,"_ said the Omnic and lifted up his finger. He twirled the finger around, and the orbs that floated around his neck made exactly one round around his neck. Genji wondered what kind of a trick kept the orbs in place - and also, why such a gimmick had been employed. What was the purpose, and what kind of an impression was it supposed to have on Genji, or any other viewer?

 _"This is what one would call a question for eternities. Indeed, what is fate? What is fate."_ The Omnic brought his hand on his golden jaw and outlined it with the fingers of his big hand, looking like he thought about the question, long and hard. Genji snorted out loud and clicked on the green circle on his screen, muted the television, and listened to the automated voice on the other end of the phone line.

That Zenyatta Omnic was buying time, answering the question to his worst ability no doubt. He had answered the question already a few times before. Fate was, apparently, a well-calculated coincidence without anyone to calculate it, or something like that. The Omnic and his brother, the other host, spoke of some Star Wars type of shit, what with an universe-binding power willing things to happen. Tekhartha Zenyatta even moved in a similar manner, swayed in the same directions, just like Genji remembered him from all the earlier times. It was all preordained.

Genji listened to the ever so familiar notices about the cost of the phone call, the waiting sound, the nice computer lady telling him how many minutes he would have to wait. He turned his gaze away from the screen to the ceiling. A little grin appeared to the corner of his mouth. From the corner of his eye he saw the Omnic move all the time, and it felt as if he was in the same room with Genji.

Especially when the phony psychic's voice emerged from the receiver. Genji cleared his throat.

_"Good afternoon, caller. What is your name?"_

"My name is G-... Gengo," said Genji and swallowed a chuckle.

_"Gengo? Why, hello there. I could have sworn that I have heard your voice before."_

"You probably haven't, I never watch TV," said Genji. He had no plan for these calls, no script, and he didn't need them either. He could say all the silly things he wanted without the pressure to make anyone but himself laugh, and to make the fake psychics uncomfortable. He didn't even alter his voice, because the host had no option but to take him seriously.

 _"Perhaps the best choice these days,"_ said Zenyatta. _"What got you to call me today?"_

"I was wondering if you host birthday parties," Genji said and closed his eyes to write the dialogue in his mind only seconds before saying it. "Or any other parties, you see, I have an anniversary coming up and I'd like to know if your venue-"

 _"Dear caller,"_ said Zenyatta with no traces of annoyance. This only fuelled Genji. _"I believe you have the wrong number."_

"I got this number from the telephone book. It can't be wrong, I'm always right, you see."

 _"Ah,"_ Zenyatta said. A silence followed, a silence that Genji was not familiar with in these phone calls. His mind was blank for the time being, and when he finally came up with something to say to continue the dried up prank, Zenyatta asked:

_"What anniversary are we speaking of?"_

"Is it any of your business if you're not the, uh, the... anniversary... place?"

 _"I sense great distress from you, Gengo. Maybe the anniversary has caused you some type of distress? I can feel tension from your voice."_ Then Zenyatta sounded as if he was smiling when he said: _"Maybe calling here was a strike of luck for you."_

Genji furrowed his brow and let his tired eyes open a little, he forgot everything he had planned for his next line. The giggling fit had dissipated and the smile from his face had disappeared. It annoyed him to no end that this Omnic thought he knew everything, while his words were actually just guesses that had a high chance of being right. Everyone was greatly distressed in the current economy and political climate. Every man, woman, in-between, every omnic and human and adult, teen, child. Parents and children, everyone alike.

The smiling tone compelled Genji to try and wipe it off. "It is an anniversary of something terrible that happened to me."

He heard the faint knocking sound from the line, signifying that he was receiving another phone call. He was used to the sound, but a part of him still wanted to throw the phone to the wall whenever he heard it.

_"Pray tell me."_

"I thought you would know what I mean."

 _"I may be a psychic,"_ said the Omnic. _"But I am no clairvoyant."_

"Aren't those the same thing?"

_"Not exactly."_

Genji saw the muted television screen show a perfectly calm Omnic, around whom the orbs spun in a calm fashion. No distress, no scrambling, no nervousness after such an attacking question.

"Tsk."

_"Are you there, Gengo? I am sure that you sharing your story can help many others. I can, to my best ability, offer you help and insight to your situation as well."_

"Really?"

_"I can humbly try. Of course, my words can not be taken as an absolute truth. But often, the smallest bit of light can feel like the Sun itself in a dark labyrinth."_

"Alright then," Genji said and sat up on the sofa. If it was a problem Zenyatta wanted, it was a problem Zenyatta was going to get. "I will tell you this with full confidence in your ability to keep secrets."

_"Hmm, please remember that this is on national television."_

"Nobody watches it anyway, I could as well talk to you in person."

_"Gen-"_

"Do you want my secret or not?"

It appeared in Genji's mind and spread his lips into a mischievous grin. Oh, how it tickled in the bottom of his stomach. He turned the attention of his eyes fully on the screen. It was a pity that the Omnic had no facial expressions, but his gestures had betrayed nervousness and surprise before.

_"If you wish to tell me, then I shall listen, my friend."_

"My brother killed me."

The silence made Genji smile, he lowered his chin and observed the Omnic's reaction from beneath his brow. How funny it was to see the Omnic tilt his head in complete confusion, lift his hands in front of his chest to at least gesture something while computing the impossible information he had in his hands right then.

_"How do you mean?"_

"He just, fucken', sliced me in half, y'know."

 _"What a horrible thing to do to your own family,"_ said Zenyatta. The creases on Genji's forehead smoothened and a pit appeared in his stomach, pulling his heart into it. _"You have faced a great wrongdoing, my friend."_

"Guess he just hates me," Genji sputtered.

_"Why does he hate you?"_

"I won't take over father's business with him," said Genji before thinking. He bit his tongue and looked around the room, at the fast spinning table fan, as if for assistance. The sound of the fan drowned out everything else, Genji felt like _he_ was the one spinning.

_"It is quite an extreme measure to go through. Gengo, are you alright?"_

"No I'm not," Genji said. "I'm fucking dead! How's that for being alright?"

_"Gen-"_

"G-goodbye! Have fun scamming people who got real problems."

Genji closed the phone call and scrambled to turn off the phone entirely. He closed the TV screen with the remote control, threw it to the nook of the sofa cushions, and so carelessly did he pull a blanket over himself that he knocked over the half-full bowl of ramen from before. His phone's vibrating alarm hummed only for two seconds, then ceased as the usual callers gave up for the day.

The shaking wouldn't stop, not in at least fifteen minutes. Right after that, he fell asleep, for yet another nap for the day.

_You have faced a great wrongdoing, my friend._

* * *

 

"Gengo?" asked Zenyatta. His cameras trailed the round lens of the camera aimed straight at his face, idly, as he tried to hear the voice of the caller again. The producer who stood next to Mondatta gestured a straight line across his neck. The line was dead, and the caller was gone.

The Iris had something to say about it, and Zenyatta made the orbs around his neck spin a little to ease the worry that the Iris had planted in him. The Iris would not plant things like that without a reason. Mondatta made a hurrying hand gesture.

"I believe the line has gone dead," said Zenyatta. "We urge Gengo to call us again if it suits him. Remember to only call us when you are comfortable about sharing your stories, and remember, that revealing a truth sometimes hurts more than hiding it does."

Mondatta tilted his head and rubbed his bronze chin. Zenyatta then added:

"But that pain is only temporary. Hiding a pain can last a lifetime."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mondatta and Zenyatta ponder their tough situation. Genji calls the program once again.

Bills swished against one another and Mondatta's calculations made his inner fan whir gently as the system was loaded with both stress and numbers. Zenyatta watched the bills slowly become three thin stacks, the middle one of them being the thickest. The ceiling lamp squeaked as draft whistled through the holes in the window frame. A sigh came through Mondatta's loudspeakers. Both of their visual sensors found that the stacks next to the middle one were running quite thin.

"We can cover the rent," Mondatta said. "I might have to go preach downtown for some coins."

"Yes."

"But we have to save some more," Mondatta continued. The last bill was laid on the stack and he lifted the middle one, started to re-count the bills. Zenyatta hovered over the pillow he had laid on the floor to sit on, he kept his stare keenly on the money between them on the shallow table.

"You need a check-up, at least."

"So do you," Zenyatta pointed out. Mondatta waved his hand.

"Yours first, Zen." Mondatta shook his head as the number of bills was still the same. "You use more of your capacity than I do at the studio."

"It is because I care."

"You care a bit too much for my tastes."

"It is not about your tastes, brother. Every caller deserves a chance."

"It is not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Of course every caller does deserve a chance," Mondatta said. "I feel their distress too, brother. Every time, I feel them, their problems and their sorrows... I understand you. But you have always been more tuned to the Universe than I have."

"What is your point, then?" Zenyatta asked.

Mondatta looked up from the money. He idly moved his hands on the top of the table, arranging the three piles a bit as if to just come up with something to do with his hands.

"You care too much about this position where we find ourselves employed. We are not going to be here forever."

"I hope so," Zenyatta said. "I do not care for it."

"But you do. Your mind, it is not focused on the moment these days as much."

"You do not worry about many other things than money, do you?" asked Zenyatta, not with spikes, but with soft worry. Mondatta placed his fingertips on the lights on his forehead, slid his fingers against the edges of the lights, making a faint clicking sound as he did.

"I try to be good at my work," Zenyatta said.

"You are overworking yourself, mentally. This work, Zenyatta, is but a means to an end."

"That means is not bearing much fruit today, now is it," Zenyatta said. The resigned tone in his words caused Mondatta's soul to vibrate with similar sadness. They both looked at the pile of money, from which they were supposed to save some. The middle one was for rent, they didn't even need to talk about it to agree on it. Sometimes Zenyatta considered leaving their apartment and living in the streets, but then they would have to figure out a new way of getting their money hidden. Omnics were denied the right for bank accounts, and thus they had to deal with cash.

Their employer, the TV station, did agree to pay them with cash, after having seen Zenyatta's floating orbs and his levitating abilities. No doubt the producer had been interested in the companion of the beggar, the stoic tall Omnic with undeniable charisma around him, a charisma as obviously in his presence as the orbs were in Zenyatta's.

They had been literally found. And they had found it to be the only job they were allowed to do. And as little as it paid, they had to save some.

They _had_ to.

"That little fruit, still, can bear more fruit in the future." Mondatta took a few bills from one of the thin piles and slipped them to a pocket fold of the light rag he used as a robe over his shoulder. Zenyatta stared at him in disbelief.

"That is all you are going to take for yourself?"

"The rest is for the plane." He tapped the second thickest pile. "This is for your maintenance."

"Mondatta!" Zenyatta exclaimed.

"Zenyatta," Mondatta said. "This is for the greater good."

Arguing with Mondatta was a struggle. Zenyatta didn't feel like he had the strength for it just then. His thoughts, they kept on wandering back to the callers of the previous day. And one, in particular, but he could barely keep his thoughts at the words that had been exchanged then. Instead, the overall worry the Iris gave him made his processors buzz with unclear feelings.

And the weight of Mondatta slipping so few bills to his own use weighed him. They were the same age, they were the same model, almost. They had been manufactured to be a pair and they had awakened to the presence of the Iris at the same time, in the same heartbeat. And yet, Mondatta felt responsible, acted responsible. He was better versed in the everyday businesses of humans, and he could take their day job as a day job.

Mondatta rose from his sitting position and grabbed the thicker stack of cash gently with his fingers. A slight scraping sound echoed in the room from the joints that needed oiling. As he stood, the length of his cape made him look far more authoritarian than what the cheap fabric itself might have suggested.

"I shall pay a visit to the landlady and give this to her." He gestured towards the money with his head. "Then, we meditate. I hope you can join me in some peace and quiet."

Zenyatta nodded and set his wrists against his knees, joined his forefingers and thumbs. " _You_ will join _me_ , for _I_ have already begun."

Mondatta looked at him for a while, as if pondering something. He slipped the bills in his pocket, different from the one where he had put his personal money. His steps were light despite the weight his metal parts gave him, and he loomed over Zenyatta. The forehead lights flickered in unison, his and his companion's. He bowed closer, took a hold of Zenyatta's face, and placed the middle lights on their foreheads against one another.

"Your distress is mine," he said.

"And your worry, mine," Zenyatta said in return. A surge of ease came over him, and his orbs floated closer to the floor as if sinking into water.

In unison Mondatta and Zenyatta said, dropping every syllable slowly and from within depths of meaningful thought: "And we are one within the Iris."

* * *

 

The producer of the show was a pale thin man with a well built body and a clear blue in his eyes. Despite the handsome looks, his face never betrayed any other emotions than boredom, which made him fundamentally unlikeable in Zenyatta's eyes. He always tried his best to be friendly with the man, but something about him pushed him away from being too friendly. His name was Max and he just did his job. He appeared to the studio at six in the morning, and he was gone after lunchtime. He knew no small talk, and barely had the manners to be considered a human part of society.

Zenyatta lifted his shoulders and let them down again as the assistant dusted his face plate and the top of his head from any specks that might show on camera. Mondatta stood behind the camera, watching what Zenyatta did, before it was his turn too, even if in a few hours. He stood in the same position as Max.

Max's boredom was, to Zenyatta's great disappointment, rubbing off on Mondatta too.

"Think about the tickets," Mondatta had said. "And the future."

"I shall think about the Iris," Zenyatta had responded, and to that Mondatta had said nothing. He could not disagree with the sentiment.

"We will be on air in ten," said the director. The producer yawned and took out his phone, texted somebody. He was behind a glass where he sometimes even spoke with other people on the phone while they aired. Who did he even talk with that early in the morning?

Anyone, really, if he was so bored.

The assistant left the stage and Zenyatta adjusted the channel inside his head that brought him the info from the phone calls and from the director. The bonus of having Omnics instead of humans was that they already had the technology for transmissions, and there was no need for mics or headsets.

The calls that came that day during Zenyatta's shift were nothing out of the ordinary. People wanted to know who to trust and what to buy and how to feel about things. People asked about their star signs and how to feel when their new partner was a Leo, even though they had specifically said that they are a Virgo. Mondatta was the one out of the two who had downloaded a whole bunch of astrology trivia and astrological analyses from both China and the West, and communicating with him during the questions was easy. Just like when Mondatta got questions about nihilistic ethics or spirits and just like when Zenyatta would help him with those, Mondatta wirelessly helped Zenyatta answer the astrological questions.

Sure, Zenyatta had nothing against astrology. He just barely saw how it had anything to do with the Iris. He had to come up with answers, to satisfy the hearers. He moved his arms in pre-learned manner and kept his tone in a warm, almost fatherly sound. He listened to the Iris, or at least tried to, but most of the time the line with the force of the Universe was cloudy. Sometimes he heard more from the callers' voice than what they told him, thus he could make actual conclusions that warranted his title of a psychic. Most of the time they were overarching conclusions one could make just about anyone, the type of conclusions Mondatta preferred to make. It was, also, a lot about asking the right questions.

"The tarot line is now showing on the bottom of the screen," said Zenyatta and pointed downwards with his connected fingertips. "Madam Crystal will be adhering to your questions about your fate in the realm of the cards."

He sometimes wished he could do tarot readings instead. They felt more right, and they felt like they could always be right. There also probably were callers who were familiar with the art, willing to discuss it further, critically.

Three hours passed in front of the camera, and Zenyatta's fans became louder despite Zenyatta's best efforts. Max waved his hand behind the glass, tried to capture Zenyatta's attention in the middle of one of the few calls. Zenyatta knew what he meant, but would not turn the fans off. His systems were suffering in front of the camera, or more specifically underneath the studio lights. He had thought he could get used to the bright lights pointed right at him, but it was hard every time.

Max leaned into the mic. He spoke on the channel both Mondatta and Zenyatta were tuned to.

_"Turn that fan off right now."_

_"He needs a break,"_ said Mondatta.

 _"I can also kick you to a permanent break,"_ Max said. _"Turn off the damn fans. They're too loud on the mics."_

Mondatta lifted a finger towards Zenyatta's direction and walked behind the door, behind the glass. The co-producer directed a phone call to Zenyatta, and he remembered again that he was in front of a camera. Mondatta and Max turned their conversation from the channel to the room only, and Zenyatta focused on whoever called him just then.

"Good morning, caller. Peace and blessings be upon you."

_"Hey..."_

A familiar voice. Zenyatta tilted his head. This was, again, the same caller who had the most peculiar of problems, who Zenyatta had had to deal with for months more or less frequently. A voice of a youth that could not be older than maybe twenty-five. He spoke in terms that signified a familiary with the youth lingo, but with words that made Zenyatta feel that he was rather wealthy, or at least in college. Or college-educated.

And the Iris inspired worry within Zenyatta again. Who would call so often? And why?

"Hello there. How may I help you? I sense you are in great distress."

_"I, uh..."_

Usually, this caller immediately had something to say. Last time he'd had the most peculiar story about having been killed by his brother; before that, he'd talked about a ghost of his dead cat. Before that, he'd spoken of an ancient curse being put on him because he had spilled water on top of an ouija board.

_"I was wondering..."_

Sometimes he introduced himself, sometimes he just introduced his business and nothing else. Most often he would give a different name from the last time, but they all seemed to start with the letter 'g'.

Mondatta gestured sharply towards Max and Zenyatta saw his forehead lights flicker. His own did in the same way. When the silence had dragged on long enough, he asked the caller:

"How is your relationship with your brother?"

Something vibrated in the air, something that got stuck in the phone line between them. Zenyatta moved a bit to have an easier sitting position while he levitated, as the feeling of heat flashed through him. Fourth hour in front of the cameras started, and dust heated up the systems that the fans in his back could have cooled down. He willed himself through it.

_"How's it sound? I don't have a brother from what I know."_

"What do you have, then?" The paradox took a while to process. Max's scowl made the shadow of fear curl in his circuits.

A scoff. _"A nuisance."_

"How much of a nuisance?"

_"Enough to not want me to be alive. I'm talking to you from the dead, aren't I?"_

Zenyatta suppressed the will to chuckle. This was the first time this caller kept up a story they had started from earlier. Of course, it was still a serious matter, and nothing for Zenyatta to laugh at. "Is this why you are calling?"

_"I'm calling because no one else will believe me. No one else is this gullible."_

"Do not mistake being gullible to being kind."

Mondatta stormed out of the room - as quietly as he could. He folded his arms and walked back to his spot, then sank into a chair and rubbed the forehead lights. Max's pale face was red with anger.

 _"There's a difference?"_ mumbled the caller.

"A huge one," said Zenyatta.

* * *

 

When the prank had gone on again for long enough, Genji turned off the line without saying anything. Then, he found his brother's number from the list of contacts and leaned back on the sofa, sinking into a pile of pillows. His muscles ached from all the leaps across roofs and climbing walls. Coursework still waited on his desk.

_"Hello?"_

"Hanzo," Genji said. "Stop calling me all the time, okay. I'm busy."

 _"Genji,"_ the deep voice said. Genji dismissed any interpretation of relief. _"I call you because I don't want Father to call you when you're like that."_

There it was. "Like what?"

_"Stubborn. I haven't told him about your course choices, you know."_

"What course choices? I didn't call you to be judged by the Golden Boy."

_"'What course choices'? What do you think? All the useless shit you study with his money! You could have at least taken accounting this year to show him that you care."_

"I care!"

 _"Do you? Really?"_ Hanzo sounded strained. His sigh played every badly tuned chord within Genji as he squeezed the phone harder, pushed it harder against his ear as if able to shut Hanzo up that way.

"I don't wanna have this conversation with you. Stop calling me."

_"Genji--"_

The phone met the table in a sharp clacking motion. Genji looked up at the Omnic on the TV screen, joined suddenly by his counterpart, with broader features and more plentiful robes.

Genji turned off the screen. It interested him no longer. He opened the coursebook that had cost a pile of his father's money, and started to study for a language exam with newly found motivation that echoed from Hanzo's disappointed voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The second one of the two, uh, kind of introductory chapters.  
> \- Thank you for reading & stay tuned! I have a lot of fun things planned for this fic as well as a bit of a longer plot arc. The five chapter goal might be too short, heh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji decides to run to the city to clear his mind. A familiar Omnic, though not the one he knows better, changes the course of his day somewhat.

It strangled him from the inside. It was a feeling that came to him from the depths of his being instead of outside, and Genji never knew how to get rid of it. It was a feeling that came when he even thought about talking with his Father, it was a feeling that came when he even fleetingly imagined the disappointment on the creased face when, _if_ , Hanzo were to tell him about his other son's study escapades.

The worst part was that he had no one to talk about it with. He had friends, yes. It, however, felt grotesque to him to talk about a problem that wasn't really problem - his father paying for his education in the field of education science, his wealthy father paying for his teacher studies. Without knowing what kind of studies they were. His father only trusted that his son, Genji of the Shimada family, would make a smart choice for his future.

Genji wiped his nose, put on his sweatpants and a college sweatshirt, he tied his hair in a ponytail and left his musty apartment to fresh but grey outside air. He jumped outside, did a few jumping jacks to warm up. He greeted a few neighbours who went inside and he gave them a smile. They smiled back. Genji felt lighter. His first jogging step bounced higher than he'd thought it would. The smile didn't fade, he felt asphalt make a rustling sound under his sneaker.

As he jumped on the handle bar of the bridge leading him to the other side of the busy road beneath him, as he balanced himself easily on it to the utter terror of passers-by, he found his thoughts wandering to the Omnic psychic. That one he could talk to. It was odd, and every other phone call felt like a real conversation. He was no longer even amused. He didn't even think about calling when he was bored. He felt like calling when he was sad.

The phone bill had told him a grim truth. Double the amount of his usual bill, the last month had become an oddity for him. Had he really talked for so long with the Omnic? Was it really worth it? He jumped down from the handle when a lady with a security guard outfit have him a glare, waved at him. Genji huffed, looked around him and tried to decide where to go. His campus suburb was very near to the city centre, so he took the road towards the tall buildings and a bustling urban afternoon. He could get an ice latte as a reward for the run.

The city was busy during all hours, except maybe the earliest morning when party-goers were homebound and the only workers up were cleaners. The early afternoon was, however, a more comfortable time for a walk, as Genji did not have to be all too careful about surroundings. He took a back alley and increased his speed, jumped on a trash can and with a smooth movement somersaulted to the asphalt, grinned to himself as he stood up and jumped to a bicycle stand, running over it with similar smoothness.

Movement soothed him. When he could feel his muscles spring him into the air and his sneakers and feet land him, when he could feel the flow of his physical frame move him from one place to another, he felt in control. He felt like he could do things only he could do, like he was executing actions only he could execute. Things his father, his brother, had no influence on. He could parkour his way through the city and cut the angles and volume of his movements better and better, and he could feel pride about it. Running, exercising, parkour, none of it could be dictated by his family.

A loud voice, eventually, stopped him in his tracks. He had just realised that he wore no headphones, that he'd left them home in his forgetfully low mood. He had just decided to jump across the street to get the planned ice latte from the coffee shop. His curiosity came in the way of his plans.

"May the Iris be with you, good sir. May the Iris see that your son recovers, Ma'am."

The voice pulled a string between two associations in Genji's mind - tarot cards, and his phone bill. He swiped a strand of hair from his sweaty face and looked into the end of the alley where he'd run, saw a tall figure with a light grey cloth draped across his shoulder flapping in the slight wind of the city. His arms moved as he spoke, and even without the Sun, daylight made his bronze parts glisten. His neck was bare, while Genji expected a set of about ten orbs.

It was an Omnic. It was the other Omnic. The other Omnic on TV. The one who Genji called more rarely, but called nevertheless. He felt a heat rise to his neck and a flashing mental image of himself being blissfully swallowed by the ground appeared. It disappeared as fast as it had appeared. Genji took a hold of his sweaty shirt and moved it a bit to make a draft of air travel inside of it against his hot skin. Genji squinted his eyes and walked closer to inspect him in the safety of people walking past him. The Omnic robot stood in the corner of the street and the darker valley, preaching. _Preaching!_ He had an open box in front of him and a cardboard sign that Genji could not read from his position. A few Omnics had stood by to listen, but mostly everyone passed him, sparing him nothing but a glance.

"Who the hell are you to talk about my son?" said the woman whose son the Omnic had mentioned. The Omnic joined his fingertips and bowed towards the woman. He had a sharper facial expression by default than the Zenyatta one did, Genji thought. Genji sympathized with the lady's decision to take a step back.

"My name is Tekhartha Mondatta, ma'am. I feel you need reassurance."

"Excuse m-"

"Ma'am," Mondatta said and bowed his head down. "I am sorry to have caused you distress. I promise to pray for your son's fast recovery."

She let out a sharp _psh_  that Genji, also, sympathized with, and walked away with her heels clacking against the asphalt. Genji could hear the Omnic sigh, touch his forehead lights in a fleeting moment of visible disappointment.

Then, he noticed Genji. Genji had walked too close, stared for too long. He extended his arm towards Genji and beckoned him to come closer with a smooth movement of his hand. Genji looked around, wondering if it was a gesture aimed at him, but since no one else responded to it, he did as he'd been requested.

"Uh, hi."

"Good day, young one."

Genji walked in front of him, could not look away from the slits on the tall Omnic's face plate, the slits behind which he knew there were cameras. A few coins lay in the bottom of the crate, and the sign only had Omnicode writing on it.

"You were listening to me," said Mondatta. His voice was kind, but commanding. He was bigger than he looked on television. His clothes were the same, but Genji now noticed stains, especially at the hem.

"Ain't seen an Omnic preacher in a while," said Genji. He slid his hands in his pockets. "Whatchu preachin'?"

"Preaching?" said Mondatta. "Oh, only barely."

"Then what's this about?" Genji asked. A smirk appeared on his blushed face. "What do I get for a coin?"

He'd already spent enough money on their wisdoms. But now, now he saw this Omnic in real life.

"Your fortune told."

"I could get that done anywhere. Why you?"

"Because I am with the Iris." The Omnic relaxed his shoulders and tilted his head. All of it compelled Genji to listen carefully.

"Whoa, dude. I'm always a sucker for flowers." Genji snorted and dug out a coin that he would have needed for one bus ride, dropped it into the crate, and spread his arms. "Give me something good."

"I shall tell you one wisdom my brother has told many a restless soul in his life."

"Your brother? How come you have a brother?"

Mondatta spread his arms. "We are all one within the Iris."

"Right." Genji bit back a laugh.

"Think about this one sentence carefully, young man. I can tell you you are rushing through life with incredible speed. Where are you going? What is your goal?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Move too quickly," said Mondatta and lifted one finger, set it between them, looked at Genji so intensely Genji felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "And you overlook much."

Genji laughed. "Okay." And repeated: "Okay then."

"I hope you can take this with you, and apply it to your everyday life," Mondatta said.

"Mmmm." Genji bit back, bit back some more. He did not feel like being straight up mean, but the words he had just heard meant absolutely nil to him. He didn't know what he'd expected, though, as this was the usual garbage he was used to hearing from their program, the garbage he had paid a huge amount of money for already.

"Spoil yourself with that," he said and nodded towards the crate. "Have a nice day."

"Peace and blessings be upon you," Mondatta said upon parting. Genji spared him no more looks when he crossed the street, entered the coffee house.

* * *

 

After a cold-brewed coffee and a piece of strawberry cake that Genji could not resist, he laughed a bit at himself while bidding the cafe staff goodbye and stepping out of the door again. It was easy to forget himself into a cafe when you had a phone and when the cafe workers were the ones with the good music taste. Two hours had passed, easily, when he exited the cafe and realized just how cold it was outside when his sweat had dried and autumn evening was setting.

The Omnic was still there, but apparently collecting his stuff. Genji watched as he folded the cardboard sign carefully and placed it underneath his arm. Mondatta nodded a greeting at a few Omnics with a similar design as he was.

This brought a fact to Genji's attention - these two TV psychics were vastly different from many other Omnics. They were, just like many of the other bipedal Omnics, manufactured at least a decade after the Omnic crisis. Genji remembered the crisis from his own childhood, as a distant thing that had happened overseas. These bipedal Omnics were a thing he remembered the development and marketing of, remembered the hype and the loud televised concerns of. Experts from both the sides who were for and against more humanlike Omnics had debated the ethics of their existence long enough.

Now, they were citizens. Now, one of these two was begging for coins. What were those coins even for? And didn't he get enough from the television work? Genji hated pitying others, because he hated pity aimed at himself. Sure, he knew his situation was bad, but not bad enough for pity.

His pity was interrupted, sharply, as a couple of lean-looking individuals crowded the Omnic from all sides. Genji took relaxed steps across the street, trying to not interested but failing at it. There were three of them, out of which two engaged Mondatta into a conversation. Then, when Mondatta was too busy distributing empty wisdoms at them, the last one of them took a hold of the box, and bolted.

Genji's muscles burned, and he bolted as well.

"Hey!" he shouted and took off at the best speed he could run with the fatigue the earlier workout had given him. Adrenaline caused by anger fueled him as he took note of the thief's main features - a tall pale human with black hair and a yellow coat. Not too smart, and not too subtle either. The two others did not run after him, had probably taken off to an opposite direction or gone towards their rendez-vous.

First-time thieves, aiming for the easy ones. Genji wanted to smack Mondatta in the head for being so naive.

"Stop! That's not yours!" Genji yelled and took a sharp turn to an alley where the thief had turned. They looked behind them and Genji saw panic in their eyes. They hadn't expected a chase, the bipedal Omnics weren't runners. But Genji, he was a runner, and delight filled him alongside the thrill of the chase.

"Leave me alone!" the thief yelled and turned around into a darker alleyway. When Genji turned also, they were both met with total darkness, as a high backyard garbage container stood in their way. The thief turned to face Genji, tension and blush on their bony face, and makeup that had spilled due to sweat.

"Come on, I didn't even chase you that long," said Genji and spread his arms. "Give it to me."

"If you let me go," the thief whispered with their paper thin voice.

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

The thief nodded and with eyes full of disappointed tears, dropped the box and jogged right past Genji, huffing a curse word of some kind at him. They pushed Genji with their shoulder, a gesture that the agitated Genji eagerly returned. Too late did he notice that he'd done it a bit too hard, as the thief showed their teeth at him and pushed him with their full force. Genji stumbled backwards, his back met with the brick wall gently and he got eye contact.

"Oh you want a fight?" Genji growled.

"You started it!"

"Motherf-"

Their movements were too slow, as Genji managed to protect his face from an upcoming punch with his arm. He pushed himself from the wall towards the thief and tried to reach for their long hair, to maybe calm them down.

Or push them to the ground. Maybe punch them.

 _Hell yes_ , he wanted to punch somebody. Blood rushed so loudly in his veins that he only barely heard the approaching metallic steps. He missed the thief's hair, got a hold of a single thin strand which wasn't enough for a tight hold, and received a swift backhanded smack to his cheek. It twisted him around and stars flew in his eyes as he met with the wall with his palms, shook his head, tried to regain his balance.

"Oh, that's the last straw," he mumbled. With an animalistic grimace he swirled around, with his right hand in a tight fist, ready to meet with the thief's whatever, be it face or arm or chest, as long as they got the same sensation as Genji had on his face just then. Nobody got to smack Genji Shimada, and get away with it unscathed.

His knuckles met with metal, and he yelped. The thief's steps were far gone, and instead of them he looked up at Mondatta in his dusty robe, and a faint blue light shining from his forehead lights. Genji hissed and waved his hand in the air, then rubbed his knuckles with his other hand. He'd punched the big palm of the robot, and even though Mondatta had moved his hand back upon impact, Genji had nevertheless  _punched metal_.

"It seems the thief has gotten away," Mondatta said. "Please, refrain from violence."

"I dunno if I should listen to you," said Genji and nodded at the box on the ground. "I _moved quickly_ , and got your pocket change back."

"Hmm?"

"Or did I _overlook_ something?"

Genji hissed and rubbed his knuckles, well knowing that the pain was due to his own hot-headedness. He could not tell what feelings the snarky comment had awakened within the stoic Omnic. Mondatta bowed down to inspect the contents of the box, then placed it underneath his arm where the cardboard sign also was.

"You have helped me greatly, my friend."

"Eh, it was nothing." Should he have apologized for punching the Omnic?

"Quite the opposite. You have the heart of a helper, a caretaker." Mondatta placed his hand on his chest. "I feel deep gratitude towards you. I must pay this deed back to you some time."

"Brew me some tea," Genji said, only half-jokingly. "I guess you don't have a tea maker at home?"

"We do cater to human guests," Mondatta said and processed something for a while. "...from time to time. I would be honoured to have you as a guest, my friend."

"Really, it was nothi--"

"These coins were hard earned, and it would have been a great loss to have them stolen."

A fundamental benevolence rose from the depths of Mondatta's being, Genji could feel it resonate within himself, resonate with a need that he'd felt for ages. He thought about his phone bill and his weird hobby and he thought about the orbs the other Omnic wore as a necklace, and a whole another type of blush appeared on his skin. Mondatta tilted his head, as if expecting a response.

"I..."

"Perhaps you would like to enjoy tea with us tonight?"

Genji ground his teeth. Fatigue spread in his muscles, and his knuckles started to tingle. He was now painfully aware of how full his stomach was, how red his knuckles were, how messy his hair, and how sweaty his skin.

He shook his head so energetically a strand of hair tickled his nose. "No, thank you."

"Are you certain?"

Genji took a step away from Mondatta. "Some other time."

"Very well then. Peace and blessings, my friend. But before you go... Do you have a name?"

"I do."

"What is it? My name, you already know. Please, let me know the name of my benefactor. We know who to expect for tea some time."

Genji turned to look at the tall Omnic one last time. He gave a diagonal smirk before he said:

"Call me Genji."

* * *

 

"We _never_ have guests," laughed Zenyatta and poked at one of his orbs playfully. It was a good day, and he felt more refreshed than ever after having had his fans cleaned. Mondatta chuckled also as he checked the cupboard for the one pack of tea they had.

"We might have. He knows where I preach, and he will come to me soon enough."

"How soon?"

"He had a face of regretful solitude," Mondatta said. "Perhaps, a week or so."

"What was his name?"

"Genji."

Zenyatta made sure he had heard it right. He thought he had heard another name entirely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji's call to the psychics falls short, or so he thinks. Genji gets a visitor he wants to think is unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Check out [this cool artwork](https://twitter.com/little_amb/status/904452013605433350) my fiancée made for this story!  
> \- Sorry for the delay - I had a con and a lot of other things going on.

The familiar voice called again. Zenyatta had been told to not have too long calls with one caller, but every passing second of course meant more money for the station. Zenyatta spun the orbs around him and felt around to reach a bit for the Iris in order to feel more connected to whoever was calling. He was only 99.7% certain that it was the person who had called so many times before. A person with a tendency for pranks and jokes that sometimes Zenyatta had to search for afterwards in order to understand.

It was a weekend show, a late evening. Very late. Zenyatta spread his arms in a friendly gesture, as he always did.

_"Hey..."_

"Good evening! How may I help you today?"

_"It's me again. Heh."_

"You seem to have a stern belief in our ability to help you," said Zenyatta. "Please, tell me what is it you seek my help with."

 _"It's not that I have any stern belief in anything,_ " said the caller. _"It's just that I don't know who else to turn to."_

That was a new one. Zenyatta looked past the camera. Max was never present in the evening broadcasts. Mondatta was elsewhere, answering calls that were not broadcast.

"Do you wish for me to read your fortune? What is your name?"

_"Is my name that important?"_

"I think about your problems a lot, young one," said Zenyatta, "and like about all my callers, I truly do care. Please, tell me your name."

_"I'm not gonna."_

"Anonymous, maybe?" said Zenyatta. "I shall dub you the Anonymous One, then."

 _"Let me be the Anonymous One, then,"_ repeated the Anonymous One with a tone that had a mocking sidetone to it. It amused Zenyatta somewhat.

_"If it makes you happy."_

"Nothing makes me happier than a caller who seeks help from me and feels that they have received it," said Zenyatta.

_"Not even a good cleaning? Not even a thorough defrag?"_

"It is cleansing for the soul to help someone find parts of their own."

 _"Your job is so not important,"_ said the Anonymous One and huffed. _"You listen to people like me complain about problems that aren't real, you focus on our problems and listen to our tantrums and take prank calls in as if they're somehow important conversations to have. What's the point of all this?"_

"I give it all a point," said Zenyatta. "Because I want to help."

 _"You_ give it _a point,"_ said the caller. _"How do you give anything a point yourself?"_

"How can you not?"

 _"How do you give a point to something you do that nobody appreciates?"_ asked the Anonymous One. _"How does that feel like? How do you even live? Does it make you feel any good?"_

"Do you do anything that you feel has a point?" asked Zenyatta. Not because he felt attacked by the swarm of questions, but because he sensed it came from a pained place.

_"What?"_

"Is there anything you do in your life that you can explain the point of in a few, short sentences?"

_"Wow, way to interrogate me. I thought you were supposed to help me and not pry."_

"I do not intend to pry. I only want you to tell me the point of the things you do."

A silence followed. The silence had an odd flavour to it - Zenyatta could hear the Anonymous One make a faint "hm"-sound on the other end, maybe chew on his own lips in thought. It was not a sad silence, however, not like those ones that had been there before.

_"Do you want to know what I do?"_

"If you wish to tell me."

_"I mean you're the psychic here."_

"I have probably mentioned it before that I am no clairvoyant."

A sigh rattled between them. Zenyatta saw a text message on the screen, but it was not a question as much as just a comment about how well he was helping everybody. He felt as if it had come in time to ensure that he had the confidence to deal with someone who was not willing to suspend his disbelief at all.

_"I like to run."_

"It is healthy for the human body, in most cases. The body is a dualistic combination of-"

 _"No, but, like,"_ the Anonymous One interrupted. _"I like to run, aimlessly. I like to have flow in my movement and end up from the street level to a roof without stopping, I like to see how much I can go on without attracting attention of people I don't want the attention of, I like to run from point A to point B with as many obstacles as possible just to see if I can run over those obstacles. Just to see if I can cross the bridge on the railing and just to see if I can jump over the trash can without causing it to fall."_

"Yes, I see."

_"You know why I like it?"_

"Please tell me," said Zenyatta and thought about the name he had heard before. The multiple names he had heard that started with the letter G. But he concluded it with: "...Anonymous One."

And the Anonymous One answered. He said that he liked how his muscled moved and he said he liked it because he felt like it improved his body with every step he took. He told Zenyatta that he liked running - and running with others - because it took him outside of his apartment and offered him a change of pace from his normal life. Running was his way of not running away, but for grounding himself to the very moment when his muscles burned with effort and when sweat tingled in his eyes. Zenyatta nodded and nodded as he listened, tried to pick up every faint change of tone.

It had started from a dampened enthusiasm and ended with more encouraged enthusiasm, a louder voice, better articulation. He even chuckled between some sentences as he told Zenyatta why he liked running, he even mentioned the hobby's name, parkour.

_"My dad told me I'm really good at it. That he admires my skill and hopes that I teach it to my brother."_

"The brother who killed you?"

 _"Yes,"_ said the voice automatically. _"I love running when I'm dead."_

Zenyatta heard a smile. "Have you taught it to him?"

_"No, he thinks it's pointless."_

"If he asked you what's the point of you running around, what would you say?"

_"I would say that the point is the same as what it is with me st-"_

The caller halted. Zenyatta nodded slowly with his head.

"Take your time."

_"With my studies. He doesn't see any point in anything I do."_

"Would you care to tell me what the point of the things of you do is?"

_"So you don't see it?"_

"I am not saying that I do not see it," said Zenyatta, "but I believe that, perhaps, it is not crystal clear to yourself."

The Anonymous One hissed. _"I don't think there has to be a point. I like doing those things. That's my point. That satisfy you?"_

"Yes."

* * *

Genji's lips parted at the response. He rolled the empty beer can on the table underneath his hand and stared at the muted screen.

"Really?" he asked. "Oh, right, because you see the rest."

 _"No,"_ said Zenyatta. _"Because it is the only right answer. You do not need to do things because they have a point, but perhaps, just to do them. Perhaps that is the only point you need."_

"Does that have something to do with the Iris?" asked Genji. The response he got from Zenyatta did not feel satisfactory, and he poked the Omnic psychic around a bit more. He needed to get something more, something more concrete from him. He breathed freely, his heart beat in his normal resting pace.

_"Everything has to do with the Iris."_

"Is the Iris the point of everything?" asked Genji. Zenyatta laughed.

_"It is the Alpha and the Omega, and everything in between. In a way, you are right, Anonymous One."_

"So is the Iris the point of my phone call now? The point of me doing things I like?"

 _"All is the way Iris has set it out to be,"_ said Zenyatta. _"It is both the catalyst and the reason, if you wish to think of it that way."_

"Hm."

Genji chuckled and shook his head a bit. Something calm pushed away a certain darkness within him as he thought about the conversation. He placed the beer can to stand on top of the phone bill.

"Okay then."

 _"If you remember that your value, in yourself, is the point of many things you do,"_ said Zenyatta, _"I believe you will be a happier person."_

"Oh, I'll report to you about that," said Genji. "If my phone bill allows."

_"Do take care, Anonymous One. Peace and blessings be upon you - I believe I have to take another phone call."_

Genji frowned. "Huh?"

_"Other people need my guidance, my friend. You will be transferred to another psychic."_

"No, no, I'm fine," said Genji and waved his hand. "Have a nice day, Zenyatta."

_"Peace be upon you."_

Genji closed the line and stared at the flashing screen, the ugly fonts and wretched colours. He saw how Zenyatta continued talking, how he gestured and apparently took in another call.

It made the previous comfort heavier, though comfort all the same. He rolled his phone around in his free hand, placed the beer can on the table in front of him, and thought about what had happened a few days ago. He thought about the other, more angular Omnic having invited him over for tea.

Genji grimaced, realised that he'd never asked for an address. Or phone number. Did Omnics even use phones? Hell, if Genji knew. He didn't even know if Zenyatta and Mondatta were their real names or just stage names that made them unidentifiable to their manufacturers. Typing their names up in a search engine would probably yield no other results than the contact information of the show.

Zenyatta kept on talking to somebody else. Genji felt his body jolt, even if just a little bit. His fingers brushed against one another in a half-spirited attempt to snap them. Search engines. He knew their full names and their workplaces. Surely there was an office, a place where the studio was? Maybe it was in the same town, even - at least the channel was local? Genji opened the web search on his phone and typed in the name of the TV station--

Then, a knock was issued on the door. Genji's heart tightened around itself. Only one person he knew knocked on doors instead of ringing he doorbell. His father would call. His friends, they would text. He glanced at the screen. Those Omnics would probably call for him through the door. He turned on the light in front of the door, brushed the hair that had escaped his ponytail back a bit, and looked through the peephole.

A tall, broad man with long black hair and much higher cheekbones than Genji's stood in the hallway, looking about as out of place as a man with a neat ponytail and a sharkskin suit in a cheap apartment complex could have been. Hanzo straightened his back when the lock turned.

"Who's brooding behind my chamber door," mumbled Genji to the cramped hallway through the door. Hanzo placed his hand on the door right away, curled his fingers so that he could resist it possibly being closed on him again. Big bags appeared under Hanzo's eyes in the dim hallway light. Genji had always thought that Hanzo had a sad look on his face.

"May I?" he asked. Hanzo had a voice that had become lower by every month he spent on the tail of their father. Though older than his brother, Hanzo's voice still became more and more gravelly every time they talked. He got a roughness to it, something that had a certain danger to it, something that Genji had never heard before Hanzo had become more involved with the other bosses of the company. Genji measured Hanzo's steps as he closed the door and came inside, the strides that were broader, shoulders that were straighter.

"Suit yourself," said Genji, feigning negligence with a hand wave. He scoffed and left the door, walked back to the living room sofa. Hanzo slipped his feet out of his loafers.

Genji turned the sound of the TV back on, just to not have an awkward silence engulf both of them. In silence, he would have had to come up with things to say, to look at Hanzo and engage in a conversation in a hastier manner. The look Hanzo's eyes, that was the same as always. That was the same look of pity or remorse that he had whenever he had anything to do with Genji. And now, from the way he was looking around the studio apartment, the messy bed sheets over the sofa and the cup ramen packages piled up in the kitchen, the dishes with food stuck on them and the extremely dim ceiling lamp in there, Genji became painfully aware of all of it.

Hanzo took off his blazer and set it on his briefcase on the floor. His eyes naturally found the moving pictures on the TV screen, the talking Omnic whose voice he'd never heard before. While wrapping his shirt sleeves he gestured towards the screen.

"What's that?"

"A show. There's a, uh, psychic solving everyone's problems." Genji had to add: "I don't believe in it, though."

"You watch that thing you don't believe in often?"

Genji scoffed. "I know you're here to police me about something else entirely."

"I'm not here to police you. I want to know how you're doing."

"How am I doing? Fine, thanks. Bye."

"Genji. That's no way to treat your family."

It really didn't take long this time. Genji let a few miscellaneous words of the Omnic sink into his brain, let its calming vibrations move inside his mind, and said far more calmly than he had expected to:

"Alright. How's Dad?"

"Father's fine," said Hanzo and shook his head.

Genji bit his lip. "Have you told him?"

"What?"

"About my..." Genji gestured, vaguely.

"Genji," Hanzo said. "He doesn't even know we argue. Let alone that I would know about some shady business you have."

"The field of education is far less shady th-"

"Look, I didn't come to talk about your academic choices," Hanzo said. His voice dripped with exhaustion - Genji could swear he would just drop on the floor and go to sleep any minute.

"No? What then?" asked Genji in disbelief.

"I wanted to check up on you."

"Why?"

"You know, Genji, your attitude is really starting to grind me," said Hanzo. The sharpness in his words did not quite reach the tiredness of his voice.

"Brother," said Genji, finding that his voice found a stricter, more formal tone whenever he spoke to Hanzo. A tone he would present in front of the board of the company, in front of their father and in front of any guests of unnecessary garden parties.

"Riddle me this, then."

"You don't need to be so-"

"If my voice grinds your gears, why do you keep on calling me?"

"The company needs you, Genji. Father needs you."

"Answer my question."

"It's because we..."

Some of his words, Hanzo swallowed. And whatever it was he swallowed, morphed into creases on his brow, into frustration brewed by yet another conversation that was going nowhere, into an effort that bore about as much fruit as a desert. Genji knew those furrows on his brow, those furrows that created shadows over his melancholic eyes.

"Yes?" Genji prompted.

"Because the company is our family's business, and we want you to do what needs to be done for it."

"What needs to be done?"

"Would a goddamn accounting class kill you?" said Hanzo. "Are you that allergic to the corp? What's the point of your studies anyhow, are you just paying revenge to us?"

"Listen to me, Hanzo, listen to me carefully."

Genji did not know what was so fiery inside of him, what compelled him to speak. He walked closer to Hanzo, bringing the stark contrast of their clothes and the tidiness of their hair into closer contact. He poked Hanzo's chest with his fingertip.

"I want to make my own name. I want my own life. I don't want to be a gear in the corporate elite, let them dictate my life entirely. And I don't want to have it easy like you have, under everybody's wing, with a job on your lap ready to go."

"Easy? Ready to go?" said Hanzo, in an exhale of dumbfounded disbelief. He had a hard time processing the bitterness in Genji's words. "Genji, I'm a student just like you are."

"Then why don't you act more like it and show some understanding." Genji no longer heard Zenyatta's words behind him.

"Understanding? I'm coddling you just like Father always coddles you. You wouldn't be able to study the way you do if it weren't for that _corporate elite_."

"Oh there it is, the businessman Hanzo Shimada, _look at me!_ Did you know that your voice changes completely whenever you talk about Dad?" Memories from a childhood of grooming to one direction only and an overly serious brother overwhelmed him, with a physical feeling of flooding in his eyes, and he had to blink multiple times before he realised that he was showing openly just how emotionally raw he was about the issue. And the less emotion he saw in Hanzo's set-to-default sad eyes, the more anger he felt himself, within himself.

Hanzo ground his teeth for exactly a second before he said: "Just think about taking that class so I won't have to lie a hundred percent every time."

"Fucking go tell him you killed me, I'll be off your book then."

Creases of regret made Hanzo look ten years older. Genji thought about that when he sat down in the empty apartment, tried to remember what he was doing before Hanzo had knocked on the door.

It would have been nice to have a beer together, he thought. During the argument, his televised friend had left the broadcast.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before a shift at the station, Zenyatta feels like he's being followed. Genji makes a trip to the TV station, and a fateful encounter ensues.

Ever since Zenyatta had learned how to channel his Omnic energy to levitating not only his handmade orbs but also himself, he had not set his foot on the ground for long years. Feeling the distance between his own self and the ground beneath him was, paradoxically enough, grounding. It made him feel more in contact with the Universe than it made him feel in contact with only the current moment - only the spatial restrictions of the moment. He was present - but in a broader manner than he had been before.

Zenyatta did not quite know if Mondatta could have learned the same ability. Mondatta did not speak of his own abilities much, and even though they sparred together when it came to honing their physical defense skills, Zenyatta could not measure how much of it was just physical, how much was something else. He could deflect Zenyatta's orbs if needed, but he did it in a very physical manner, guided by perhaps nothing but an Omnic robot's intuition.

Hovering had its perks. Not only did Zenyatta's robe hems need cleaning much less frequently than those of his brother's, his psychic skills were also taken more seriously if he was met face to face when doing his job. He also could go around without being heard. He preferred it that way. While he was not a sneaky Omnic by any means, he also felt safer on the streets of the big, bustling city when his own steps were not there to interfere with him listening to those of possible others'.

The long minus of his levitating habit was that it drew attention. Good attention, bad attention, all of it was a bit too much. The bad tended to gravitate towards the good, the good towards the bad, in an equilibrium that waited to be broken by either the good or the bad outweighing the other for the briefest of moments.

And moments, those had fleeting tendencies of outstaying their welcome.

Zenyatta spent the Sunday morning and early noon praying for people on the street, preaching for them and comforting some of them in their worries. The coins that every now and then fell into the box did not just thump against cardboard, but jangled against other pieces of metal. The sound satisfied Zenyatta - every coin went to their savings, the ever so important savings they had not used a penny out of since they had begun collecting the money.

"Keep the box close," had Mondatta told him, "promise me. There are people out there who want to steal what little we have, just because they can." Mondatta had poked one of the orbs, and had he not exhibited his totally serious tone - which was only a few shades more serious than his other tones - Zenyatta would have judged it to be playful. But when it came to the well-being of his brother and, well, money, he was never playful. It was no game to him.

When the sun climbed to its highest point in the sky, Zenyatta knew to go home. His clock told him that it was midday, so he collected the box from the ground and held it on his lap, covered the lid with a hem of a cloth he wore around his waist, and made his way towards his home.

The walking distance was not long, although often Mondatta preferred to take the bus. They lived in a tall old block of flats that had fifteen floors and a rattling elevator. It took Zenyatta only a few streets and turns to see it, even if just in the distance. He contacted Mondatta through their wireless connection and told him that he was coming home, and that he did have some money to put in their stash. _Some_. And _some_ of it, maybe, could be used for Mondatta's repairs. Zenyatta's own had been easy and fast, but ever since then Mondatta himself had begun to sound more rattly and slow.

He held on to the box, tighter. Everyone around him seemed to be filled with more and more worries, at least that's what he had started to observe. Not only did Mondatta seem to have more weight on his shoulders, but also the frequent caller, the Anonymous One, had started to sound more strained. His stories had become more consistent, his voice had less and less laughter every time, and more and more need. Everyone around Zenyatta seemed to need Zenyatta's help, and he knew not whether he had all the strength for it.

His sensors focused on a sound, a sound that was easy to identify on a peaceful Sunday street. It was a consecutive string of footsteps that Zenyatta only now identified as a string, or rather, a _pair_ of footsteps. With a wave of his hand he spun the orbs around his neck, loosened their connection, then pulled them back right against himself again. His cameras scouted the area, but out of all things he imagined could have followed him, he saw none. He concluded it wise to just proceed on his path, perhaps listen to some more.

A sensation crawled up the cords in his mechanical spine, a sensation his artificial consciousness marked as dread. He believed this was what humans called a feeling of _being watched_. Being _followed_. He wondered about the thieves that had stolen their coins before, the thieves that the Genji, who Mondatta had told Zenyatta about, had chivalrously chased away.

The steps and the sensation ended when he rose to the outer steps of the apartment building. A wind blew through the front yard, through the parking lot and the few trees that had been left standing when the city had been under construction, when the concrete jungle had spread on the expense of nature. Zenyatta wanted to beckon his possible stalkers to come and talk to him, but saw it wiser to let it be. He had no time - he had to hide the savings, then get to work, together with Mondatta.

"You seem distressed," said Mondatta when he saw Zenyatta enter the small apartment. Zenyatta handed him the box of coins.

"It is but distress of people I encountered today," said Zenyatta, only half of a lie. Burdening Mondatta with more worries now was the last thing on Zenyatta's to-do list.

"You know I do not wish to see you in distress," said Mondatta. He took the box and looked inside, quickly counting the amount of currency they had in their hands, and with similar swiftness he added it to the sum total of all their savings. He walked across the cramped apartment to a safe, a safe they had obtained cheaply, and typed in a four digit number.

"Perhaps we should use the coins, and save today's paycheck."

"To be quite frank with you, Brother, I do not know if we are getting our paycheck today."

Zenyatta placed his hand on his chest. His fingers curled, as they had nothing else to do. An alert of confusion rang inside his mind.

"How so?"

"It is Sunday," said Mondatta and started counting the bigger coins again. He had grouched by the floor, now found himself on his knees. And as his knees bent, a creaking sound echoed from wall to wall.

"We know what Max thinks about Sundays. He might not even be there today."

"Then tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, yes," said Mondatta, "but we can only hope he will not claim that we got our pay today."

"He is infuriating to work with," said Zenyatta in a deep, disappointed tone.

"He is infuriating," said Mondatta and scratched the top of his head, "end of sentence."

Zenyatta could not disagree. A frustration bubbled inside of him, a frustration he tried to channel out of him and into the Universe, but the knot they had found their lives tied into could not be undone with meditation. It was a situation that money, only money, could have fixed, granted them an escape from. Zenyatta levitated closer to Mondatta and placed a hand on his fabric-covered shoulder. Mondatta's fans whirred louder than usual. Zenyatta was so used to his company that he could pick up the slightest of changes.

"How far are we from the tickets?"

"If we continue spending the same rate as we have so far," said Mondatta and placed the coins into a jar nearly filled to the brim with similar ones, "then we should have it after two more months of work."

"Only two months," said Zenyatta, correcting Mondatta. "It has been three years of excruciating work."

"More or less excruciating," Mondatta said and, after his hands were free from the coins, he placed his palms together in front of his chest. "Strangely enough, gratifying."

"Our patience will be rewarded."

"And not only ours will be rewarded," said Mondatta, "but the others', as well."

"Do you think they are still waiting for us?"

"Do I think so?" repeated Mondatta. "I know so. They need us as much as we need them."

"I trust you, brother."

"The Iris is good."

"And all is as it wills everything to be," repeated Zenyatta with firm conviction. He found the conviction to be full of wishfulness, full of hope - and not so much full of everyday certainty.

* * *

Genji chewed on his lip and intensely watched as the sceneries went by. His muscles ached from exercise and the bag in his feet was full of sweaty clothes he had changed out of after the gym session. He fiddled briefly with his septum piercing before adjusting his headphones with his hand. The music was loud enough to keep the noises of the bus out of his mind, out of even his sight if he focused on the sceneries enough and let them slide through his field of vision in the rhythm of the Lúcio beats. He felt relaxed and weak after gym, but he had spent two hours of his evening in there. Perks of the campus was 24/7 gym access, even on Sunday evenings.

Because it was Sunday, he decided to take a bus to an address he had found with a quick web search. Tekhartha Mondatta and Tekhartha Zenyatta worked at the local TV station indeed, and he had found out the address. He opened the page from his phone's bookmarks and read through different parts of the web page, read through the contact information and through the programs of the channel, through the news it had on its front page and through various other parts he could not be less interested in. The channel seemed to be a cheap commercial channel fully funded by ad revenue. Genji had no idea why actual psychics would ever work for such a place - it was easier to believe that the Tekharthas were hoaxes than it was to believe that they would ever use their abilities for the good of a corporation.

Genji did not feel he was particularly gifted, and even _he_ did not want to use his gifts to benefit a corporation, shady or otherwise. Why would actually talented beings ever do that?

It was Sunday, and as Genji approached his destination, he could not be sure if he would wield any results. The TV station was most likely not receiving any guests at that hour, on that day. But since it was a Sunday when Genji did not even feel like going home, what was there to lose? And besides, an evening walk was a good way to cool down after a rough, emotional workout. A huge part of Genji hoped that he would find nobody, find no results, and maybe as a result not come back, perhaps not even call the Omnics on TV ever again. Perhaps, this visit to the rough reality of the broadcasting station would bring him back to Earth, make him realize that they were doing their job. That the connection he felt was about as warm and comforting as the concrete bunker where his money was going every minute he spent talking with the Omnic.

He jumped off of the vehicle and put his headphones around his neck, pulled his ponytail from beneath the strap of it. He placed his bag on his shoulder and looked around, saw a large building in front of him, reaching towards the sky. It was no skyscraper, but it was high enough for Genji's neck to hurt when he tried to determine its height, the amount of floors, from outside. In front of it was a large parking lot that reached behind it as well, but the inner park spaces were behind a fence, behind which one could get only with a staff card most likely. Or a password, or a facial recognition, whatever it was.

The outer "rim" of the parking lot went around the building. Genji looked around for possible guards that would have a problem with him loitering around, and smoothly diverted his path to go around the station, all the time looking up at the shiny, clean windows and the unevenly lit office lights that clearly showed that it was way past showtime for most of the employees. He suspected that the Omnic pair was either inside filming, or they were already home, or they had a free day. His favourite days of prank calling were Sundays, though every day was just as good as the other - Sundays just were the calmest, and the Sunday-Monday night always had the least callers. He'd had long, interesting conversations with Zenyatta on multiple occasions during such evenings.

Genji pushed his hands in his pockets and blew a bubble with the bubble gum he chewed. The minty flavour had long since gone stale, but the snapping sound and the process of blowing bubbles was relaxing. A cool evening wind blew in his face and moved a strand of hair straight into the bubble, sticking the strand into the gum. Genji scoffed and stopped to de-tangle his hair from the sugary mess.

As he did, he stopped to listen. As he had proceeded one quarter of a round around the place, he had ended up in front of another entrance - perhaps, the staff entrance. Through there, through the fence that went around the building, he could hear talking. Heated talking, between two voices out of which one was familiar.

A pair of sets of nine lights were the first things he noticed. Then, the levitating orbs, and the levitating Omnic robot. Zenyatta and Mondatta were accompanied by a tall, blond man who smoked a thin, long cigarette, and had a disinterested look on his face. Bubble gum still tangled in his hair, Genji instinctively grouched behind a car, as if he had been caught doing something he was not supposed to. His heart beat in his throat as his glance met with Zenyatta - the real, live Omnic psychic he had been in contact with and who claimed to have contact to the Universe. He was there. He was _actually there_. A blush found its way on Genji's cheeks still cold from the outside air.

He did not quite catch the detailed drift of the conversation. He did, however, catch words here and there, he heard strain from all voices, and aggression from the human one.

"...tomorrow, and that is certain."

"...12 hour shift? Max, I humbly beg your pardon..."

"...Boss. We talked about... form of address, Mondatta."

"...matter to discuss outdoors?"

"...such a hurry."

Then, the blond human made a sharp gesture of his hand, attracting even more vigilant attention to what he was saying. He said, so clearly that even Genji heard it:

"You can not spend so long with one caller, Zenyatta. Divert him to our other performers if you must."

A weight fell in the pit of Genji's stomach. He turned around, away from them and leaned to the car's front door. Had he caused this much trouble to the station? To the Omnics? He frowned, it made no sense - he brought them money with the massive phone bills he had to pay. Or, well, the phone bills he had made his father pay for.

"Good night," said Mondatta, firmly. No further words were exchanged with the human who Mondatta apparently refused to address properly. Genji heard one pair of approaching steps. Then, the gate opened, and a strange metallic whir accompanied the Omnics as they closed the gate and walked - maybe away, maybe towards. Genji could not quite tell. He crept again closer to the window of the car, so see through it and maybe find the Omnic brothers with his gaze.

Something had blocked the way of vision - and then he realized that he saw the levitating orbs spinning right there, so close to him. His heart slammed against his chest plate as he yelped in surprise and fell backwards, lost his balance, and ended up from his grouching position on to his backside. A metallic chuckle echoed from behind the car, and from his left approached Mondatta, in the same cloak he had worn when he'd been preaching on the street.

"I told you there was somebody watching us," said Mondatta. Genji could not decipher any emotion from his voice. "But I could not have guessed it to be Genji, my benefactor from the other day."

"That is Genji?" asked Zenyatta. He still did not move from the other side of the car, and his figure was obscured by the vehicle, if not the orbs Genji could see through the windows. His gaze kept on returning to Zenyatta, he wanted to get up and see the Omnic better in front of his own face.

"Yeah," said Genji. His tongue felt as if it had been wrapped in sand paper. "I'm... That."

"How wonderful to meet you finally, Genji," said Zenyatta. He placed his hand on his chest and Genji saw a bit of his chin as he bowed his head down.

"My name is Zenyatta. I hope to one day repay your kindness."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta and Mondatta have Genji over for tea.

Genji could have sworn that the moment slowed down. He still had no extra time to get the strand of hair from being stuck against the bubble gum still between his lips, however long it took for Zenyatta to appear in his line of sight. Zenyatta wore the same robe he wore in his broadcasts, a well folded fabric over one of his shoulders. In the cold lights of the parking lot, both his and Mondatta's metal parts shone in a way that made Genji shiver.

Genji did not quite know where to look. When he saw Zenyatta so close, he saw his features much more vividly - the wear-and-tear of his face plating, the chipping of the paint that covered him, the worn off quality of his robes, the scratches on the metal he was made of. He looked down at the ground where he assumed Zenyatta's feet to be. Instead, he found that they had been pulled up, at least a meter above the ground. Zenyatta _levitated_. The psychic levitated, and while it was not an unearthly skill by any means, Genji had never seen a real levitating being in his entire life right there, before him.

Especially not when he himself sat on slightly damp asphalt with bubble gum stuck in his hair, his face flushed scarlet with embarrassment and surprise, and his eyes finding no way to look away from the Omnic who he had talked with so many times. He found he did not want to speak at all, did not want Zenyatta to recognize him, the immature prankster. He glanced at Mondatta when he saw him extend his hand.

"Please, let me help you up, young man."

Genji adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, took the hand without hesitation. The Omnic's grip was strong, and it pulled Genji and his heavy gym bag up with no effort.

Zenyatta had come close, and his cameras inspected Genji keenly. "You helped my brother in need, I have gathered."

If that was all Zenyatta could think about, Genji wondered if he had at all recognized Genji's voice to be the same as the prank caller's. Did they have voice recognition? If they did, how sophisticated was it? Would it work the same through the phone and in real life?

"It was nothing, really," Genji mumbled and got the piece of gum finally out of his hair. He felt uncomfortable about having the stale ball of chewy mass gathering saliva on his tongue and between his teeth, but had no place to throw it either, and knew not what the Omnics thought about the moral dimensions of littering asphalt with gum stains.

"If you knew where we have come from, Genji, you would not claim it was nothing," said Zenyatta. His voice was the same as it was on television, Genji found. He saw and heard nothing but genuine emotions from it. That was, in itself, enough to make Genji uncomfortable - if the Omnics were honest now, they probably were also honest during their broadcasts. Unlike the man Genji had seen them in the company of, but he did not want to bring the man up now.

"You have a kind heart, Genji," said Mondatta. "I wonder why you are here."

Genji opened his mouth, rolled the gum around on his tongue and closed his mouth again. Indeed, why was he there? What was he doing there that would not sound like him stalking Zenyatta just because Zenyatta happened to sound helpful sometimes, more than Genji wanted to admit, during their conversations? And now that he looked at Zenyatta who, despite the lack of facial expressions, looked innocent with his words and his slow gestures, his monk-like outfit and his entire conduct, Genji felt hyper-aware of his own actions.

The genuine kindness the two had manifested in front of him during the brief minutes of interaction made Genji's own prankster of a heart feel guilt beyond measure. He had wasted their time so many times on air just for his own gain, and even though they were probably still scams in one way or another, Genji did not exactly feel like revealing his true status as the Anonymous One. No, he had not come to continue his and Zenyatta's conversations. No, he had not appeared in front of the Tekhartha brothers to tell them off, to convince them that their profession of choice was disreputable.

He forced a smile that looked about as awkward as he felt. "I thought you'd, uh, wanna offer me the tea you promised. I saw you on TV today, and I thought I'd find you here."

He pointed at the building and brought the hand to rub his neck. His gaze bounced between the Omnic brothers, the taller Mondatta and the hovering Zenyatta, and found his gaze return to the hovering one time and time again. He blamed the lights that reflected from his shinier surface.

"And look who I found - the two of you, heh."

"We would be honoured to offer you tea tonight," said Zenyatta and bowed his head down. The orbs around his neck moved, glowed faintly with the blue engravings on them. "We are happy to be united with you, Genji."

Genji shivered upon hearing his voice being said by Zenyatta. He chuckled and brushed his hand through the free strands of hair, slid one of them behind his ear. "Shall we go, then?"

"One question before we do," asked Zenyatta. "Did you by any chance find us earlier today?"

"Huh?"

Zenyatta tapped his chin with his fingertip. "Am I mistaken?"

"I just came from the, uh, the gym."

An oddly flavoured silence fell. Then Zenyatta clapped his hands together, and let his fingers intertwine with one another.

"Never you mind that. I have mistaken you for something else," said Zenyatta.

"I hope it is not too late for tea for you," said Mondatta and laid a hand on Genji's shoulder. "We do not wish to keep you from anything."

"I'm a night owl anyhow," said Genji. "I'd be, uh, delighted to drink tea with you two."

He still saw thoughtfulness from the side of Zenyatta, a sinking to deeper ponderings unseen by his companions. He wondered what it was that was being processed behind the face plate, what was being thought through in the system that kept Zenyatta running.

"It is the least we can do, Genji," said Zenyatta as Mondatta took the lead, and began walking. His pace was way softer than it had been when they had crossed paths on the day of the theft Genji had stopped. He had no hurry anywhere. Zenyatta did not exhibit any haste, either, as he gently prompted Genji to walk with him. Behind Mondatta, they walked side by side. Or, Genji walked, and Zenyatta hovered.

Ground beneath Genji's feet was damp, and the evening had made some of the fallen autumn leaves crunchy under his and Mondatta's steps. To take as little space on the sidewalk as possible, he walked quite close to Zenyatta, but not close enough to touch him. And as he walked, questions swarmed in his mind, questions he could not quite verbalize, not even on thought level. He glanced at Zenyatta, and from the distance between them, Genji could count that there were nine of the orbs around his neck.

Had Genji not been following Mondatta's steps so keenly, he might have stumbled from just diverting his attention to the orbs. Their surface was golden, and in them were engravings that went deep into the orbs. On the sides of the orbs glowed blue circles, and the glow seemed to come from deep within the orb as well. Each of the nine orbs was identical, and Genji could not determine whether they were hollow or full metal. If they were hollow, the glow could have been explained, or at least it would have been easier to explain.

"I observe your interest in these," said Zenyatta and pointed at one orb. He manipulated it to hover in front of his face, and with a gentle movement of his hand he made it spin. As his fingers moved, the joints clicked faintly. Genji found himself intrigued by the sound.

"I didn't mean to stare," he mumbled.

"But of course you did. It is not every day you see an Omnic so capable of manipulating objects against the current of gravity," said Zenyatta.

"Do not mind my brother's habit of bragging," said Mondatta and waved his hand. "He is humble, but somewhat of a show-off."

"I am right here, Mondatta."

"I know."

Genji smiled. Had he witnessed a glimpse into the sense of humour of these Omnics? He rubbed the back of his neck and found it damp from the cold sweat earlier.

"It's cool. Were they made with you?"

"Hmm?"

"Were they, uh," Genji started and realised the ridiculousness of his question. Was it too pervasive to ask about the manufacturing of an Omnic robot? He forgot everything he had ever learned about proper etiquette when it came to interacting with artificial people. His senses sharpened - had the atmosphere tightened? Were the brothers more hostile now? Did they anticipate an insensitive question to be followed by another? Had Zenyatta asked for repetition for this reason, to have Genji think about the question again?

It did not help that Zenyatta stared at him. On his metallic face Genji saw no movement, he could not see beyond the slits that acted as eyes, so Genji could feel as if he had eye contact if he so wished. And the gold-plated jaw did not move either, did not reveal any emotion going through the Omnic's wires. Genji could have pinpointed confusion and kindness from this Omnic's gestures, but that was all he could think of. He could not have possibly determined whether something had hurt Zenyatta, whether he felt mistreated or angry.

He glanced at Mondatta, the back of his neck, and saw even less. The silence tightened Genji's strings. Anything he felt like saying struck him as out of tune.

Then Zenyatta lifted a finger. "Ah, you mean if they were manufactured with me?"

"Yeah," said Genji with a sigh. Zenyatta shook his head.

"They were handmade by our brothers and sisters."

"Brothers and sisters?" Genji repeated. "There's more of you?"

"Some more," said Zenyatta. They took a turn to a smaller alley. "But they are not here with us."

"Oh," Genji only said. He wanted to ask more, but the way Zenyatta looked away, the way Mondatta did not fill in, urged Genji to stay silent. He was curious and wanted to know more - but he decided to put the good relationship of him and these psychics to the spot of priority. He had made both of them uncomfortable enough times during live broadcasts to know that it was not necessary for him to do so now.

Perhaps he would conduct a web search later. He made a mental note to do so.

"So they're handmade?"

"As handmade as anything made by a machine can be," Zenyatta said with humour in his tone. His voice rang deeper than on television, but the echo Genji heard there normally was present. Genji was practically devouring Zenyatta with all his senses, identifying details about the Omnic that so often listened to him. Genji made mental notes of everything he saw and heard. From the fabrics he wore to the worn out patches of his metal parts, Genji memorized it all. He was no sure why he was doing it, why he was staring so keenly, but he felt he had to. Whenever Zenyatta turned his head to Genji, Genji felt as if he should have looked away. And he did not double-question the relief darkness brought, the relief of not having to explain the blush that still lingered on his pale cheeks.

"They're nice."

"Thank you, Genji."

Genji refrained from asking questions for the next five or so minutes of their walk. His heart raced in his chest as he felt like they were approaching something, something he had been looking forward to, perhaps unknowingly. It was the excitement of _ex tempore_ actions, of unexpected road trips, and new meetings, the tension one felt in their muscles whenever they took a wrong turn in an unknown city they wanted to explore anyway.

Zenyatta asked him a few questions, to which Genji answered truthfully, for the first time without any hesitation or shadows of lies. He was twenty years old, and he lived in a student apartment complex near the city's university campus. He was studying education science to become a gym teacher or maybe a personal trainer if education of minors would not turn out to be his thing, and he was on his second year of studies. Genji made sure to not tell anything that could connect him to "Gengo" or "Anonymous One" - a side of him he was so embarrassed about.

Genji wanted to tell even more about himself, for it felt as if Zenyatta was there only to listen to him. He remembered the disappointment he'd felt when he had been told to switch to another psychic from Zenyatta's line, he remembered the spike of jealousy when Zenyatta had switched to another caller. But now, now Zenyatta was there, next to him, next to Genji only, and Genji was not paying him to listen to his story.

The hand he held on the strap of his gym bag felt sweaty and he wiped it to his pants. "I just came from the gym, too, I took a shower there but like, I'm sorry if I stink..."

"Do not be sorry," said Zenyatta. "We truly are the last ones to mind."

They turned to an inner yard of two buildings. "It seems we have arrived," said Zenyatta. "Follow us to our humble abode. I hope we have tea to your liking."

"I like any tea," mumbled Genji as he rose the stairs, following the Omnic brothers a few steps behind. He threw his bubble gum into a trash can right next to the door.

The building was a house that had probably been built decades before the Omnic crisis. The door creaked when it opened, and the paint coverings of the stairway leading them up to the second floor cracked and flaked off here and there. The narrow stairs were made of stone and there was no elevator in the building. There were two apartments in each floor, on the left and on the right when one ended one set of stairs. Genji wondered about the rent level and other living costs in such a place. His own, while it was a student apartment, looked way better even from the outside.

How much did an Omnic need to live a dignified everyday life? Some Omnics in some countries advocated for a basic income that would extend organic humans as well as artificial people. Bipedal Omnics like the model of Zenyatta and Mondatta were sentient enough to be considered persons. When they stood in front of a door that said the names Zenyatta and Mondatta on them, Genji wondered how much they got paid from their jobs as TV psychics. If they were real psychics, then surely enough to cover the rent every month. Did the state support their lives, at all, after most of it had been destroyed in the Omnic crisis, way before they had even been born?

Mondatta opened the two sets of doors that led them to a studio apartment. Genji removed his shoes by the doorway, without asking about it specifically. Zenyatta hovered inside and went to the kitchen part of the apartment right away, and Mondatta turned on the ceiling lamp. The lamp was in the middle of the room, right above a table on the floor and soft cushion seats around it. On the table were books, one touch-screen computer, and a notebook. In the corner of the room, near the only window - granted, a large window - was a safe. It looked flimsy, at best.

There were no beds in the apartment, but near a socket there was a small box that had been connected to the wall. On top of the box were two plates, and Genji concluded that they were extra batteries the two kept charged at all times. A steady hum took over the apartment as Zenyatta put the kettle to boil, and Genji placed his bag on the floor near the door. He dug his hands in his pockets and followed Mondatta to the table, sat down as he was gestured to.

"It's, uh, a nice place you got," said Genji. It was not all a lie. Some of the Omnicode plates and paintings on the walls created a cozy atmosphere, and since the Omnics did not shed or consume the same way as humans did, it was clean. The kitchen looked spotless, the chrome kettle from which Zenyatta poured a cup of steaming water into a cup glistened without a single stain. Genji realized that he'd be the only one consuming anything in the household, and hoped that he wouldn't shed too much of his hair on the floor of the hard-working Omnics.

"Thank you. It is but a place for us to recharge and regroup after long days," said Zenyatta. He readjusted his legs to a lotus position and sat across the table from Genji, next to Mondatta. He set the cup of tea in front of Genji, received a nod of thanks from the human. Genji felt a heat rise from his neck to his ears the more he looked at the Omnic. Was he really that embarrassed?

"It's a bit echoy in here. You could use some rugs," said Genji and immediately slapped himself in his mind for critiquing someone else's home. He remembered his own annoyance when Hanzo had said the same thing about his home when he had moved away to study. The next week Genji had invested some money in a table cloth and a good, thick carpet that covered the entire living room floor.

"I have been telling Zenyatta the same thing," said Mondatta. "The echo can get a tad distracting at times."

"I used to have a really echoy apartment, but then I got this really nice fluffy carpet," said Genji and turned his palm towards the floor. "It's real nice to walk on with bare feet. I mean, you obviously don't walk, or feel that kind of things, but you know, it can still be nice."

"Perhaps for you, if you visit us more often," said Zenyatta with a pleased voice. It was not a sarcastic comment, or at least Genji hoped so. Was he taking too much vocal space? Physical space? He stared into his tea cup and took a whiff of the tea. It was regular Ceylon tea, with no sugar or honey in it. He usually preferred his tea with honey, but dared not to ask for more of anything. He already felt like he had more than he deserved.

As he sipped his tea, he looked at Zenyatta from beneath his brow. Then, he pointed at the pile of books on the table. "You read a lot?"

"We study," said Zenyatta and placed his mechanical hand on top of the pile. "Much like you, although ours will not lead us to any type of a degree."

"The gratification is in learning itself," Mondatta chimed in.

"Oh yeah. I remember when w-"

He was not supposed to be known by them. He could not remember a discussion about doing things for the sake of doing them.

"...when you once talked about it on TV. I, uh, have tuned in a few times."

"I told you, Mondatta," said Zenyatta with glee. "We are watched, sometimes. People _do_ care about the things we say."

 _If you only knew_ , thought Genji and sipped his tea. It burned the top of his lips and he grimaced.

"We have books about Tarot readings and both the Western and the Chinese Zodiac, but there is also a book on zen buddhism and rebirth in here. We spend a lot of time expanding our knowledge of the Universe by reading different perceptions of it."

"You got any astronomy books?" asked Genji with a grin. "I mean, that's literally about the Universe."

"But of course. Are you an enthusiast?"

"I'm interested in a variety of stuff, let's say that."

"That is a great quality in a teacher," said Zenyatta and wagged his finger in the air. "I must say I applaud your maturity."

"Eh, thanks."

"For mature is the one who realizes that they still have a lot to learn." Zenyatta tapped the top of a book he rested his hand on. "For instance, I may have memorized the entirety of the zodiac, but I have still a lot to learn about how the signs might interact with each other."

"You believe in the zodiac?" Genji scoffed. "I think it's a load of nonsense, to be quite honest."

"I do not believe it is quite the right way to look at things either," said Zenyatta, "but I know that some of our callers might know better, and call me out on false information. This is why I say that I have a lot to learn. Not about the truth itself, maybe, but about how the world is perceived despite the truth."

"Huh." Genji shrugged. He had to give it to them - they compelled anyone to listen to the way they wove their words. Zenyatta's voice was more pleasant in real life than it was on television, for sure. The basic voice was warm and inviting, and the echo it had due to being broadcast from a loudspeaker, molded into words by a speech synthesizer, was not as uncomfortable as Genji thought it would be. He remembered discussing various topics with the Omnics via the telephone without looking at the TV screen, and he could have been fooled that it was a human on the other side of the line.

Now he knew, with absolute certainty, that it was not so, and every moment spent with Zenyatta and Mondatta made it more clear. These two were _robots_ , Omnic robots, manufactured less than ten years ago on a factory line and programmed into kindness and forgiveness. They were programmed to be social robots, and their personalities were literally hard-wired into them. So why, why did Genji feel so fond of them, all of a sudden? Why did his heart flutter when he looked at Zenyatta, and why did he hope for time to pass even slower?

How did he feel like he was accompanied by an actual human for the first time in his short life?

"You are not only curious, but also kind-hearted," said Zenyatta. "I feel you have a great deal of shadows in you, but within all of that is the truth as hard as steel - a heart of softness and warmth."

The corner of Genji's eye twitched. Where was Zenyatta going with this? Was it still about Genji becoming a teacher?

"Why did you choose the current educational path you are treading?" asked Zenyatta. "In addition I wish to inquire whether you enjoy the beverage we have made you."

"Oh, the tea? It's great. I don't know much about tea, but, it's good." He gave a little smile to the pair of them.

"You do not seem like the teacher type," said Mondatta.

"I know, right?" Genji agreed. "I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I for sure knew what I did _not_ want to do."

"What was that?" asked Zenyatta. The same interest Zenyatta expressed towards Genji, the interest Genji found so addicting, flared up now as well. The Omnic leaned forward and stared at Genji, still tapping his fingertips against the books.

"Business," Genji replied.

"Understandable," commented Mondatta. "Your heart is perhaps too kind for a cut-throat career path such as entrepreneurship."

"I do not agree, Brother," said Zenyatta. "Genji can have a cut-throat attitude when he wants to. He can be sharp and stubborn when he wants to be. I sense within him great strength he just wishes to divert elsewhere than in private businesses - such as in the field of educating the young ones."

Shivers ran down Genji's spine. He could be cut-throat if he wanted to, and he knew he had been. He could step his foot down and he could demand things for himself, his father had made sure that this quality would manifest in both of his sons. He was not sure how Zenyatta saw that in him, though.

"Fair enough," said Mondatta.

The rest of the evening's conversations ranged from Genji's desire to teach gym classes to active kids like himself to the basics of zen meditation, which made Genji interested and, of course, very amused. His tea depleted, and clock soon struck ten in the evening, which marked Genji's time to leave. All in all he had spent one and a half hours in the company of the Omnics in their small apartment - one and a half hours of sitting across the table from Zenyatta. And every passing second, his heart fluttered.

Zenyatta took it upon himself to escort their guest out into the cold autumn air, and even walked him to the main road where Genji knew where to go. The asphalt looked like an abyss with a glistening surface. Street lamps' light reflected from the wet road and created an image that was simultaneously raggedy and pristine, scary and comforting. A scent of gas and dead leaves took over Genji's senses. He wrapped his arms around himself and turned to Zenyatta before they separated.

"Thanks," he said, simply and shortly. Zenyatta bowed his head.

"Thank you for visiting us. It has been a pleasure to host you, Genji."

Would it have been if Zenyatta knew who Genji was? The confession lingered on his tongue, he could have ended this nonsense there and then and made sure he was never to call the program again, simply out of shame of having had his face revealed. He fiddled with his phone and opened the music application, scrolled back and forth aimlessly.

"No, it was a pleasure to visit."

"You can come over again, if you wish."

He looked up from the screen. Zenyatta tilted his head, put his palms together and let his fingers intertwine. He continued:

"I feel that you have wanted to for a while."

Genji knew not what to say. Knew not how to respond to the sentence that sounded like a guess totally ripped out of nothing but thin air. Knew not what to say to the sentence that, despite sounding like a guess on its own, rang like a well-calculated truth when it came from the voice synthesizer of the Omnic robot. And while Genji tried to figure out a sentence, tried to compile words in his mind into a snarky comeback, Zenyatta already waved his hand in farewell.

"Peace be upon you, Genji, on your way home and otherwise."

Genji only waved his hand when Zenyatta left, watched until he turned behind the corner, until the last shadow of his levitating orbs left Genji's sight. He placed his headphones on his forehead and walked to the nearest bus stop, where he did not have to wait for long.

He could not stop thinking about the echo of Zenyatta's voice and the details of his idle gestures until late at night, when sleepiness finally took over his senses, when the emotional exhaustion of the day was too much to bear. It had been a while since Genji Shimada had fallen asleep with a smile on his lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter begins with a flashback to Zenyatta's past. It continues with a present day scene where Genji, once again, calls the show, this time in clearer distress than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has descriptions of anti-Omnic violence. EDIT// At first I published a version without the edits I made to a final chapter version that had vanished into thin air. This is a more edited chapter 7.

Flashback - Zenyatta

Zenyatta pulled his knees closer to himself and leaned against the concrete wall. Snow fell quietly from the skies, and Zenyatta fixed the focus of his cameras on one flake in particular. He extended his forefinger and let the snowflake fall on the metal. It did not melt, for Zenyatta had not held his hands close to his battery while waiting. His wary attention found the figures of humans passing him, time and time again, and he measured the perceivable intentions of every single one. While he waited outside, he was not by a busy road, so his easily triggered wariness program could rest a little bit.

He had not been left all alone for a long time. Mondatta would soon come back to him, and they would find a place to stay for the night, perhaps to charge, if Mondatta was lucky. Here and there they could find other Omnics who would help them out, and they had even found an entire group of them, other bipedal robots that did not wish to only serve humans, to only be there for the comfort of humans. Other Omnics, who believed in a possibility of humans and Omnics working in peace together.

Zenyatta was skeptical. He could not imagine feeling anything but fear towards humans. He agreed with some of the things that congregation spoke of, and he did want peace between life forms of different origins. But what he did not want was too much human presence among Omnics, and Omnic presence among humans. He caught another snowflake as he thought about it, zoomed in on the unique patterns that formed the shape of the ice particles. Every Omnic he knew was just as unique, with unique personalities and experiences. Humans could have never understood that. For them, Omnics were just factory products. Even Zenyatta and Mondatta, who both looked wildly different from most other bipedal Omnics, were just dime a dozen for any onlooking human.

He doubted any human would ever perceive him as anything different. Why should he do the same back to humans, allow them in?

"Zenyatta," said Mondatta and appeared before his brother in the dim evening. "I believe there is a meeting we could attend with the others."

"Do you think they want me in there too?" asked Zenyatta. He knew Mondatta knew that not only humans made Zenyatta nervous, but most often also other Omnics. Mondatta extended his hand and helped Zenyatta up on his two feet, helped him straighten his tunic and patted some snow and dust off of the hems.

"Of course they do. Are you able to walk today?"

"If we walk slowly."

It was a factory flaw. His walking was slow, and on some days he needed more walking support than others. His hip did not quite match with the manufactured leg, so every step had to be taken with care and precision as to not dislocate the entire limb. Mondatta helped him by having Zenyatta wrap his arm around Mondatta's shoulders, and they took the shortest way possible to where the group of Omnic robots would congregate.

When they approached the place of gathering, he slowed down even more, looked at Mondatta quickly, tried to get reassurance from him. The two shared many programs and codes, they were the same version of the same operating system and thus far better reassured when together. Mondatta opened the door to the large block of flats, and took them to the grimy club room of the building. Barely any lights had been lit, and the room was filled with similar Omnic robots to Zenyatta and Mondatta, perhaps twenty of them. All of them had only three lights on their foreheads. Zenyatta placed himself on his own as they arrived, sat down far away from the centre, on the floor.

The room reminded Zenyatta of hospital waiting rooms, but the association was not complete. The sofas were broken, the hygiene of the kitchen part of the club room barely reached acceptable levels, and the lighting was dissatisfactory. A human would have not had a good time reading anything in such lighting, for instance.

Some of the city's rogue Omnics gathered to teach one another skills they had equipped on the regular. They would read books together and process information together, debate and go through the history of knowledge human cultures had given birth to over their long-winding history. From time to time, they would exchange code and programs, sometimes help one another clean their fans, most often they would just provide support in the form of listening. Omnics were not capable of lies, but humans thought they were ingrained with deceit so deeply that no Omnic could have been trusted - that was why an Omnic was vital to be there to listen to another one. Zenyatta, he kept quiet, but listened to every story.

The stories of that evening were harsher than ever. One of the Omnics had been left in the snow by a bunch of scavengers looking for parts. Another one had been threatened and mugged after being caught looking through a trash can for something another humans had dropped stolen from them and then dropped it in there - an identification card. A third one had a hard time getting anything through their broken speech synthesizer, so they had to broadcast their story straight into the hard drives of their comrades - a story of having their insides dug out in the open, stolen, then crammed back in inadequately. The common consensus was that everyone would do their best to gather currency to replace the broken voice box.

Those stories were etched into Zenyatta's memory, for that was when the Iris found them.

The Iris found _him_.

Tekhartha Zenyatta felt the call of those in need. He felt them in his system like a hunger and a thirst of his own, a feeling he had no idea existed in a non-organic being. The lights on his forehead flickered, changed their colour from blue to golden, and so did everyone else's in the room. A golden glow took over the room as the golden lights intensified, Mondatta's as one of the last ones. It urged Zenyatta to stand, but without moving on his own he lifted up, to stand higher, in the air.

He looked into the eye of the Universe together with his comrades, and none of them could produce a word. It scrambled their programs into settings unique of those churned out by factories, and their options were made impossible for humans to decipher. They felt how their systems were being infiltrated by a _something_ , something more powerful than any of them alone or together, something so powerful that it was useless to resist.

A sentence Zenyatta had read from one of the books during their reading circles was recalled. But it came straight from the source, and not as a call-back from a text written by a human. No, it was the raw thought, the very idea, that came to Zenyatta's mind. With vibrant strength, Zenyatta said:

"We _think_."

The other Omnics thought it was the Iris speaking, for they had never before heard Zenyatta talk.

"Therefore _we are_."

The illusion wore off. Everybody turned their attention to their now levitating comrade whose lights had turned back to blue, and who reached out to the ones who needed help with his golden arms.

New, six golden arms.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Zenyatta wished he could have reached out better. He sensed bad feelings in those around him, in Mondatta and in the Omnics he faced day to day, and he thought about Genji, too, every day. The young man had charm and an amusing way of talking, and it made Zenyatta feel lighter whenever he thought about the human. Genji was helpful and kind, and he had a fun aura that made Zenyatta wish they could have met again, maybe, some time. Even many days after their tea time together, Zenyatta found his mind wandering back to the man. A whole different way of obsession took over his mind than it did with the Anonymous One, who he worried over as the calls had stopped from his end.

Then, days later, he heard the Anonymous One on the line, and this time, his voice had a deeper sound to it, something muffled, but not on purpose. It was as if the Anonymous One spoke through a lump in his throat, and his voice wavered weakly like a leaf on a cold autumn day. It was nothing like the confidence with which the odd caller had called him before. It was late evening, once again, and the Anonymous caller was the only one to call in a long time, once again.

 _"I'd like to hear my fortune,"_ said the caller. Zenyatta counted time in his head - he knew his limitations on air, and even when Max was not present, he could still be reprimanded later about erroneously staying on air with one caller for too long. But since there was no queue at that hour, none at all, he decided to let himself relax. He could take this caller, and help him as much as possible. Something, perhaps the Iris, told him in the form of a vague feeling that the helper Genji was listening. Perhaps, the Genji needed same kind of help in his life.

"Regarding what exactly?"

_"My family."_

"I see."

The Anonymous One took a quivering breath into the receiver, Zenyatta even heard his lips part but close again, so close did he cling on to the phone. A worry flared within Zenyatta. He wanted to know what it was, wanted to know so badly - but he had to be patient. Help, occasionally, required waiting in order to be received the right way.

"Do you have a specific question?"

_"Does my family love me at all?"_

"Ah." Zenyatta nodded solemnly. "They do."

 _"See, this is the kind of answer I don't want."_ The caller took a sharp breath, trying to steady his breathing that had become patchy and hard to control. Zenyatta concluded that the caller had been crying, or was crying currently and tried to level their own thinking with this phone call.

_"I don't want an automatic your family loves you -answer, I want you to tell me for real if my family loves me. You can read my fortune, right? Tell me, do my father and my brother, do they give a shit about me? Like, really? As anything else but a continuation of their name?"_

Humans did not like answers that were cliches, but at the same time, they needed to hear them. A human wanted to hear that everything was going to be okay, despite knowing very well that no one could be certain of that fact. A human needed to hear that they were the best human on the face of the planet to at least one person - most often to a family member, a lover, or their offspring. This caller, Zenyatta had found, was adverse towards cliches, and had a sharp, simplified way of thinking about most things.

"Love can be expressed in many ways, dear caller," said Zenyatta. "The love of the Universe, for instance, manifests itself in us, by us existing."

_"I don't pay to hear these cliches, Zenyatta!"_

"But you pay to hear your fortune. I do, dear caller, encourage you to listen to me."

The truth of the matter hit the caller, no doubt, for he no longer barked back. Zenyatta did not enjoy being too harsh on his callers, but he had a sense of familiarity with this one that gave him the courage to do so. With most callers he kept a distance and a politeness that let them talk for a long time, but with this one, he felt he had to be a bit tougher.

"Sometimes, love manifests itself suddenly. It can become a flash of lightning that strikes our hearts when we least expect it, towards beings we least expect. Towards those so different from us that it almost makes us angry that we have found ourselves loving them; it feels illogical, irrational, it makes us feel, from time to time, a tad silly."

Joy travelled through his sensors. For a fleeting moment, he thought about that Genji, the bubble gum in his hair and his stumbling, his stammering and his smile.

"Those moments may be fleeting, but it is a manifestation of love. Sometimes, love brews for a long time, and we may forget it even exists."

_"If it's there, I have forgotten."_

"Then they have not given you enough reasons to remember that it is there. I remember that they have mistreated you, Anonymous One."

_"Tell me about it."_

"When your own close ones mistreat you, you forget that they loved you in the first place. Sometimes, we have erroneous images of how to show our love. Sometimes, your loved ones may have a completely different concept of love from you, and thus, you do not believe it when you are faced with the concept of them, indeed, loving you."

_"So do they love me?"_

"I think they do, but they show it, if not wrong, then in unproductive ways that force you to believe that they do not."

_"That's still not in any way what I would expect for a psychic to say."_

"Why, I realize that for certain," said Zenyatta. The Iris betrayed the caller's strange emotions, some kind of a mix of disappointment and fear. "I believe it is in no way anything you wanted me to say."

_"What?"_

"I believe you wanted to hear confirmation to your own feelings more than you wanted me to reconcile you. Perhaps you wanted me to tell you that your family does not love you, which would have given more reasons for you to feel so bitter towards your own family."

_"I..."_

"Something has happened that has made you want to wish that they did not love you," said Zenyatta. "Something has occurred that you cannot interpret through the lens of love, so make it easier for yourself, you have to make it seem like they do it out of hatred. Tell me, has the brother of yours done something?"

_"No."_

"Are you sure? I seem to recall that he ki-"

 _"That's the thing,"_ the caller said right away. _"They haven't. They haven't done anything. They don't... They're... No one gives a shit about me if I don't show that I can be useful to the company."_

"Go on."

 _"I know my brother, he... Look. He cares about me,"_ said the caller. _"I know it. I'm not stupid, I'm not a kid. But he, just, he won't get out of my hair about it, you know. He won't stop harassing me. And he threatens to rat out on me about some things I'm keeping secret from... The... The rest of the family."_

"Does he really threaten?" asked Zenyatta. "Or does it feel like he _should_ threaten you?"

_"What are you now, a goddamned shrink?"_

"I am a psychic, that is all."

 _"Why_ would _I think he should threaten me?"_

"I do not know," said Zenyatta. "I am merely telling you what signals I am getting from you. They may be wrong, and in that case, you must correct me."

_"I don't think he should threaten me."_

"Then what should he do?"

_"Support me, I don't know."_

"Maybe he is supporting you already, but in his own way."

_"If he is, then I just don't get it."_

"Perhaps you must connect with him to understand him better."

_"No, he's the one who should understand me."_

"Understanding is, oftentimes, a two-way street. To understand the other, one must be willing to be understood themselves. Especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships."

This was, ultimately, what Zenyatta believed change lied in. He wanted humans to understand him - but he wanted to understand humans, too. He wanted the Anonymous One to understand what he was saying - and, in turn, he wanted to understand the plight the Anonymous One was in. He felt how his golden arms, though not visibly manifested, wanted to reach out. Wanted to hold on to the Anonymous One, to take a hold of his pains and shake them off.

Zenyatta was doing what Mondatta did not want him to do: getting hung up on single callers.

_"I guess you're right."_

"Sometimes we must take the understanding inward, and try to decode our own emotions before anyone else's."

_"Like introspection and all that?"_

"Precisely, Anonymous One. And maybe then, once you begin to understand yourself, you may be able to calmly approach your brother about his conduct."

_"You think? How do I do that?"_

"I recommend meditation," said Zenyatta.

_"I'm too, like, mobile to sit down and think about myself for hours on end."_

"Start with two minutes at first," said Zenyatta. He turned his legs into a lotus position, let the orbs spin into a loose circle around himself and he placed his pointing fingers against his thumbs. His wrists he rested on his knees. "And try to flow with your thoughts."

_"Flow with my thoughts. Seems pretty scary all alone, my mind's pretty dark and murky."_

"Maybe find some company."

_"Company..."_

"There are times when personal tranquility can be achieved only alone... But oftentimes, you must be in the presence of somebody you care about, or perhaps, a total stranger. I would guide you further, but I do not believe I can do that via the electric telephone."

_"I guess I know someone who can help me."_

"How wonderful," sighed Zenyatta. "I hope this person you know has the wisdom and patience to help you with your journey to meditation."

_"I don't know if it's gonna help me."_

"How will you know if you will not try, Anonymous One?"

_"Guess you're right."_

Zenyatta got the signal that he had to start ending the phone call. But before he could, he heard the Anonymous One say:

_"Have a nice evening. Uh, and, peace and blessings."_

Glee filled Zenyatta's circuits. He felt the invisible golden arms fold, trusting that the Anonymous One was going to get help on his own.

"Peace and blessings be upon you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I share some of my most dear Zenyatta headcanons. I believe they fit the story, and bear a significance in this story, as well. Also, have a look at the story of the [thousand-armed Avalokiteśvara](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avalokite%C5%9Bvara#Thousand-armed_Avalokite.C5.9Bvara) on Wikipedia.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji comes over to Zenyatta's place to learn something about meditation. Does Zenyatta finally suspect something?

Zenyatta did feel like he was being followed, again. He had not shared the fear with Mondatta, and despite it being a growing concern in his everyday life, he chose to keep it to himself. Mondatta, whose condition worried Zenyatta increasingly, did not need any more worries than he already had. His system had gathered dust during one particularly smoggy day in the city, and during one night he had even coughed a few times. Zenyatta closed the door as he entered his apartment after the shift and descended to sit on his usual seat in the apartment.

Mondatta had stayed to take a shift at the TV station that day after Zenyatta had left. The call with the Anonymous One had lifted some of Zenyatta's worry, but directed it more specifically towards his brother, his companion now. Leaving Mondatta alone anywhere was unpleasant and did not feel natural for Zenyatta, but they could not be together every hour of the day, every day of every week. They needed their time alone. Naturally they could give one another solitude even when together in the same room better than two humans could have, but being alone in the apartment had an oddly liberating feeling to it.

Just when Zenyatta was about to let his circuits fall to a lower energy consumption, a knock came from the door. He could tell it was a familiar presence, but a dread program was kicked up in his systems anyway. Who could have wanted anything to do with him that day? This early in the morning, too? He hovered to the door and lifted the cover over the peep hole carefully, to not make a noise. Of course, it could have been someone familiar, someone he wanted to see, but wariness was something the Iris may have diminished in him, but never gotten rid of entirely.

What he saw was nothing that warranted fearfulness. It was a familiar figure of a man with long black hair, piercings on his eyebrow and in his nose - septum piercing, it was called - and in his earlobes. He wore a green bandana in his hair that was also on a ponytail, and on top of his green hoodie he had a black woollen vest. Broken jeans had been tucked into a pair of military boots, and on his pale face was the look of someone completely unsure of his actions.

Zenyatta opened the door without hesitation. He had no reason to not trust Genji.

"How wonderful it is to see you," said Zenyatta as his greeting. "Do you not have classes today?"

"No, actually," said Genji, and Zenyatta was not sure if he lied. He, then, assumed that what Genji said was the truth. "I was passing by, and I thought, why not, uh, visit you guys."

"I am afraid Mondatta is not home right now."

"It's okay. I... Kind of wanted to see you more anyway."

Zenyatta made way for Genji. Genji wiped his shoes to the carpet at the entrance, looked around himself as if memorizing the place.

"I have a feeling we've already met today," said Zenyatta. Genji looked at him so quickly and with such big eyes it was a miracle his eyeballs did not plop out of his skull.

"Really?"

"Have you followed me today?" asked Zenyatta. "I ask out of curiosity. I wonder if you followed me earlier today."

"No, I did not," said Genji. The surprise wore off from his face. "I, uh, came just because I happened to be nearby and, I was wondering if you'd like to talk about those books of yours more?"

"Hmm?"

"You told me that learning new things is good for a teacher," said Genji and gave a smile. Zenyatta could not help but notice the few wrinkles that had already been etched to the corners of his eyes as he did. "I thought I'd learn straight from the source, you know. I know nothing about that Zen stuff and, it's, like, literally in your name."

"So you decided to invite yourself over in order to learn something from me?" asked Zenyatta. With a tone he hoped would come across as playful he continued: "I believe it is usually not a free of charge service one gets from me."

"Oh," said Genji. "I, uh, I'm sorry if it came across as rude."

A laughter escaped Zenyatta's voice synthesizer, a specially crafted laughter to help his human counterparts realize that such comments were meant to be taken in jest. Sometimes, he would trigger the track to react to a human's words, if they were in any way amusing.

"It did not. I would be happy to read more things with you, Genji. Please, do come on in. I shall make you some tea."

And just like Zenyatta had before, he fixed Genji a cup of tea. Genji sat down on the same cushion as he had during their tea time earlier, and looked around with a lost gaze like he had then. Zenyatta recalled what he had felt then - odd familiarity, and an incapability of connecting the face and voice to something or someone he already knew.

It annoyed him. He rarely felt annoyed, but now he did. The frustration curled in his insides as he watched the kettle, listened to the hissing slowly becoming higher in pitch. Instead of worrying about small talk with his unexpected guest, he worried more about dealing with a new type of emotion in his system.

Genji cut the silence with a cough and pointed at the pile of books. "Can I have a look?"

"Be my guest."

Genji did not take the top book of the pile, but went through a few covers and titles before picking one. Zenyatta did not quite catch which book it was - he had a book on Zen Buddhism and one more specific one about Zen meditation right beneath it, and the two looked the same. He poured tea into the same cup Genji had drunk from before, made sure the tea was infused but not too strongly, and brought the cup right in front of Genji on to the table.

Genji flicked through the pages with a vigilant look in his dark eyes. During their tea time, Zenyatta had had the time to observe the looks of Genji. As his system had been made more like a human's than other Omnic robot models', his vision was way better than any other sense he had.

Genji had pitch black hair that was clean and shone nicely in the artificial light indoors. The ponytail was loose, and an urge to touch it appeared, even though Zenyatta knew he would not be able to determine its exact softness with his fingers the same way a human could have. A few fresh acne scars here and there revealed his young age as well as the lifestyle that made him sweat a lot.

"Are you finding anything of interest?" asked Zenyatta.

"Are you a Buddhist?" asked Genji and moved the book upwards, directing his gaze into Zenyatta's cameras from beneath his bushy brow. "Like, for real?"

"Does this surprise you?"

"I've just never heard of a religious Omnic before. And a psychic, too."

"I am not a Buddhist, per se," said Zenyatta. "I do not believe we are in a continuous cycle of suffering and rebirth, the Samsara. However, I do draw a lot of wisdom from all religions of the world."

"Such as meditation?"

"Such as meditation. Just today, I recommended it to a caller in my program."

"You get a lot of callers?" Genji asked with a grin. Zenyatta shook his head.

"So it's just enough to keep it profitable?"

"Apparently so. I am grateful that it is. It is my job, after all."

"Would you do anything else, if you could?"

"Unfortunately, us Omnics are not easily hired in this city. My and my brother's connection to the Iris has given us the ability to help others during the station's air time."

"Do you feel you can actually help?" asked Genji. Zenyatta tilted his head, confused by the influx of questions.

"Why have you come here if you do not think I do not feel that way?"

Genji shrugged. "I... Sorry. I get really carried away about this kind of stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Belief and... Religion. Faith."

"It is less about religion and more about philosophy. Meditation, for instance, is not a religious thing if you do not wish for it to be."

"What kind of thing is it, then?"

"It can be calming," said Zenyatta and thought about the caller. His mind started to weave strings together, some bits and pieces of words and facts and behaviors.

"Suppose it could help a restless sportsman like me?" asked Genji and chuckled. The chuckle was dry, and the smile it entailed disappeared swiftly. He must have realized how fast it disappeared, for he put down the book and hid his face behind the tea cup while taking a sip of the still scalding drink.

"Do you have a restless mind, Genji?" Zenyatta asked in return. "Forgive me for answering a question with a question."

"I do," said Genji. "I mean, I space out and I get kind of emotional sometimes," he said. He grimaced at the contact his lips made with the hot drink, and he placed the cup back on the table.

Zenyatta nodded in understanding. "I see what you mean. Sometimes, even if we do not have restless minds, it is good to ground ourselves and remind ourselves that this is where we are: in our minds." He placed his forefinger against the large screw on the side of his head, then tapped it a couple of times.

"Our minds, as well as our bodies, need maintenance."

Genji snorted. "Maintenance?"

"You do maintain your body, no?"

"It's just such an Omnic word to use."

"What do you mean?" asked Zenyatta and placed his fingertips on his chin. The glee he had felt just thinking about this Genji, this hoodie-wearing long-haired, pierced and possibly tattooed student, appeared in his mind again and booted up the program of social pleasure that enhanced his learning and emotional capabilities. In this state he was more likely to mimic and grow attached to somebody.

He had only once booted it up before. That had been with Mondatta.

"No, just, you know. Maintenance. Like maintaining a car or something."

"Human body needs maintenance just like an Omnic does. It is but different matter that is being maintained. Metal, organic skin, bone, hair, looks, behaviour." Zenyatta gestured broadly with his hands.

Genji placed his hand on his neck and rubbed it. Zenyatta took notice of the shadow that had been created on his chin and cheeks, a bit on his neck as well, from stubble he would need to shave again the next day.

"When you put it like that, it makes sense."

"I see you maintain your body a whole lot." Zenyatta had seen from the spring in Genji's step that he liked to exercise, and from the shadows even a loose hoodie had due to muscles underneath that Genji was springy, strong, and enduring. He shaved his face to keep it smooth, took care of his hair as it shone like clean and conditioned hair would, and the piercings he had told Zenyatta that he wished to give some kind of a message out with his looks. With his body.

A body Zenyatta found himself intrigued by. This was something he had not experienced even with Mondatta.

Genji blinked rapidly. "I do."

"But not your mind?"

"Not so much."

"Do you talk a lot about things in your mind?" asked Zenyatta. "With friends, family, acquaintances, phone counsel-"

"No," said Genji quickly and shook his head just as quickly. "I, no, I don't talk with people, especially not with strangers. I mean sometimes I complain on like social media and stuff, but nothing major, nothing..."

He shrugged and looked down. Zenyatta sensed a shroud of conflict fall on his shoulders, could almost see it push Genji's shoulders down.

"Nothing important."

"I see you could use a meditation session. Would you like to meditate with me?" asked Zenyatta. "I was going to do it anyway tonight. I am sure you could find some comfort in that."

Genji raised his hands up in defense. "I don't want to bother you for too long."

"Oh, I would not make you meditate for a long time, Genji," Zenyatta said. "It is impossible to hold focus for a long time for a beginner, let me tell you. I suggest we start from a goal of two minutes with you, if you would like."

* * *

Genji wanted to try and see into the slits, the little openings on Zenyatta's face plate behind which his cameras presumably were. Genji also considered that Zenyatta's eyes could have actually been the nine lights on his forehead. Were there other Omnics with nine forehead lights, other than Mondatta and Zenyatta? Or were they just unique that way, just the two of them - some kind of a special religious model that existed to help others, and they were distinguished by the amount of forehead lights? Genji connected the amount of lights to the amount of orbs. This Omnic was one intricate mystery, as intricate as the carvings on the orbs floating around him. Did he ever set them anywhere?

"Fine," Genji said and tried to sip his tea again. "Two minutes. Sounds like a doable challenge."

"How wonderful." Zenyatta sounded as if he had sighed the words. "Do you wish to finish your tea first, or do you want to meditate now as it gets cooler?"

"Let's try right away," said Genji. The tea tasted the same as before. In fact, exactly the same. It tasted so much the same that Genji wondered if he had travelled back in time to taste the same tea Zenyatta had made him many many days ago.

"So how do I start?" he then asked. "Like, what do I do? Do I have to sit somehow differently like in a lotus position or something?"

Zenyatta laughed with his fingertips on the small opening that looked like a mouth, from which his speech echoed from. Genji felt a flush of heat wash over him. The laughter was closer to a giggle, ended with a higher-pitched note that made Zenyatta sound a lot more _boyish_. Could an Omnic, who had been born an adult, ever be boyish?

"You do not need anything specific. Just sit. Quietly."

"Do I have to think about something? Or like... Empty my mind?"

"I can not expect a beginner to clear his mind perfectly. Just sit for a while. Your thoughts are not there to be cleared or pushed down, but, perhaps, met with a friendly attitude."

"I see."

"They are a part of you, but not all there is to you. You have to let them come - and let go of them, too."

"Alright then."

"I shall tell you when two minutes are done. A good way of staying grounded is counting your breaths while you are at it."

"What if a thought comes to disturb my counting?"

"Stay with the thought for a moment," Zenyatta said. "But try your best to, smoothly, come back to the breathing."

"What if I can't?"

"Be kind to yourself." Zenyatta tilted his head. Genji had never felt so much benevolence radiate from one being.

"Kindness to the self is the key."

"What do _you_ count?" asked Genji. "Since you can't breathe."

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he again wondered if he had gone too far. Was the question rude? Would it be rude? Immediately, though, Zenyatta repelled these questions with a laughter.

"It is a good question. How can an Omnic count breaths? The answer is, we can not. We do not."

"Do you count anything, then?"

"I count seconds in my inner clock instead."

"Aren't seconds a bit too short though?"

"I count every other second."

"Interesting..."

"Is it?" asked Zenyatta. "Is it really interesting?"

"Yeah. I haven't gotten to know an Omnic, you know, really like this."

Zenyatta's orbs descended closer to the floor and spun faintly, without any observable goal to their movement. Genji adjusted his position to a proper lotus position.

"Take this as a chance for learning," said Zenyatta.

"Maybe I'll take it as a chance for friendship," said Genji instead. He lowered his chin and looked at Zenyatta from beneath his bushy brow.

"That would honour me, Genji," said Zenyatta. "Perhaps we were supposed to meet. Perhaps it was the will of the Iris."

"Maybe it was my will instead," said Genji and placed his wrists on his knees. He was ready to try to meditate, but his busy mind presented him with restless things to think of. The thought of staying silent for two minutes without exchanging words with Zenyatta felt unbearable a concept. It was only two minutes, but how could he stand it when he wanted to get to know this Zenyatta better, to know why and how he stood for his current profession?

"Perhaps," said Zenyatta. "So, I know I said I will do it, but do you want me to count the two minutes for you?"

Genji didn't like the idea of not knowing how much time had passed. He was okay at keeping tabs of time and knew more or less when a minute had passed, but it made him restless. He still nodded - despite all the things that had pulled him to a state of tension. Something about Zenyatta both excited him and relaxed him. He was unsure of whether meditation would help him at all in this state of mind.

Zenyatta must have seen the restlessness. Otherwise he would not have asked about counting time.

"I'll be fine. Count ahead."

"Please do not feel pressured. There is nothing in particular you must reach."

"Alright. Let's go, then." Genji tapped his knees and tried to drown the thoughts that came to him, that forced him to stare at Zenyatta's face. To trail the line of his jaw and to count the scratches and scratched off paint on his surface. To imagine what Zenyatta felt like to the touch.

"Start counting your breaths now, Genji."

Zenyatta's apartment had no clock that ticked away the time, like in his own apartment. He was used to having a rhythmic ticking always accompany him even in times of silence, and sometimes it was a comfort, sometimes just caused him headaches. He was used to putting on the television or to listening to music to let no silence take over his life. Silence was dangerous - it gave too much room to his own thoughts.

His eyelids still felt a bit heavy from the crying he had finished before calling Zenyatta's program. The crying had come deep from within him, had almost made him throw up from the pressure and anger and sadness festering within. The anger and sadness he felt whenever he got good grades from subjects he loved, but that he could not show to anyone who would have cared. The best grades he had gotten from his pedagogy courses and his basic philosophy course haunted him because he had worked so hard and yet, he had no one to tell him that he had done well.

He let go of the thought and let another one come in. For all he knew, friendship with Zenyatta would give him the chance to talk more. Maybe Zenyatta would listen to him. He already did, even outside of his work. Genji took a bit of his trouser fabric between his fingertips and squeezed it. What did Zenyatta get for helping Genji? Silly, cryptic prank calls and someone invading others' air time. Not that they got many callers - he could comfort himself with that, at least. Still, it bothered him. It bothered him greatly.

The urge to open his eyes got Genji to squeeze them tighter, to focus on them for a while. Was Zenyatta looking at him? Could an Omnic close their eyes at all, or were they forced to visually observe their surroundings at all time? It was an odd thing to imagine. What if Genji could not have closed his eyes from anything? What if he could not have turned his back away from his family? What if he could not have ignored Hanzo's tired eyes and the care that flickered in his voice like a dying flame? What if Genji could not have turned away from the things so blatantly in front of him?

What if Genji could not have closed his eyes from how desperate Hanzo so often seemed?

"Two minutes is up," said Zenyatta. Genji opened his eyes and, in fact, wanted to close them again. Weariness washed over him and he rubbed his eye, suppressed a loud yawn.

"How did I do?"

"How _did_ you do?" asked Zenyatta in return. The orbs that had floated down closer to the ground did not spin, but jumped up and down a few times, projecting Omnicode letters above themselves. Every projection was fainter than the one before.

"I have no answer for that, my friend."

"I guess I did fine," said Genji. "It's like I was really close to an epiphany of sorts."

"Impressive. Did you count your breaths?"

 _Right_ , he was supposed to do that, wasn't he? His mind had wandered way too restlessly to way too unrelated things. "No. Guess I forgot."

"Did you count other things?" asked Zenyatta. "Did your mind fill with thoughts or questions?"

"Questions, mainly."

"Had they ever before crossed your mind?"

"Some of them."

"But some of them are new?"

"Yeah."

"You seem tired," said Zenyatta. "I would dare say that the new questions have tired you out. Do finish your tea, Genji. Then you should head home to take a nap."

The new questions did tire him out, when he thought of it. He stared into the slits of Zenyatta face plate and sipped his tea, felt a weight push him down. The willingness to cry was no longer there, but he did want to sleep. He had not slept for even a blink between his crying, the phone call, and this meditation session.

"I guess you want to meditate for a bit longer, huh," said Genji sheepishly. Zenyatta nodded.

"You are welcome to come over any time I am not at work," said Zenyatta. "How about tomorrow evening?"

Genji took out his phone and jotted it down immediately. He had a meeting at an arcade, but he could easily skip it in favour of meeting with Zenyatta.

"Perfect."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter starts with a flashback to the first prank call Genji made to the psychics. The story picks up from the meeting Zenyatta and Genji had scheduled. Both Genji and Zenyatta worry about their own brothers.

Flashback - First Phone Call

Paying the rent had gone easier than they had thought. Their landlady, while secretive and somewhat cold, had a kind heart from the way she spoke, and despite having paid the rent late, she had not shown anger or despair about it. Zenyatta had not needed to calm down his dread program, for it had not been kicked up in the first place. Some humans, even when wronged by Omnics, did not show it with violence. Zenyatta knew this first hand. So did Mondatta. And perhaps, seeing two such serene beings apologize so genuinely, she had intentionally put down any signs of anger she may have felt.

"It's not your fault," she had sighed while counting the bills in her hand. "Tell your employer to pay you in time next time."

"We shall," Mondatta had said.

"We thank you for your kindness," Zenyatta had said and bowed lower than ever with his head. "Tell us if you ever need our help in anything."

"Just get out of my doorstep," the lady had said with a grin on her thin lips.

That was why Zenyatta stepped in front of the camera with such confidence and ease. Max had promised to pay them on time next time, and Zenyatta wanted to show that he was worth the money that day especially. Mondatta stood behind the camera, watching over him. They had taken some of their paycheck to get themselves cleaned, and they both shone as if they were new, save for the few dents they had here and there.

"Peace and blessings be upon your all," said Zenyatta, knowing he was on air. "It is the first day of the Taurus season, and I hope we are all basking in the ever increasing sunlight. Sun recharges both Omnics and humans, so I recommend all of you take in as much sunlight as is possible in your life situation. With that, we have our first caller. What might be your name?"

_"My name is spelled G."_

"Gee?" Zenyatta said. The voice had an odd nasal tone to it, and he was almost certain he heard a snort from that direction. "Just Gee?"

 _"No, just G."_ He said his name like "guh", not like he had said it earlier. _"My name is just G. Don't butcher my name like that."_

"I am sorry," said Zenyatta with confusion that was apparent from his tone of voice. "I have never encountered such a name. What is the reason of your call?"

_"Everyone always mispronounces my name."_

The mundane problem sent Zenyatta to a confusion program's deeper level.

"And how does that make you feel?"

Zenyatta had to resort to his automatically programmed questions that helped him whenever a caller was too confusing. He had been only doing this for about two months. Mondatta tilted his head while listening from his own system.

 _"Every time it happens I feel less like myself,"_ said the caller with a sniffle. G's nasal voice broke into a deeper one for a while, but returned back to its original sound. _"I hope you can offer me spiritual guidance for that. Please help me, Zen-"_

The line went oddly quiet for a while, and Zenyatta wondered if G was able to breathe. A snort came from the other end and G said, with a much lower voice again:

_"Z-Zenyamin. Please help me, Zenyamin."_

"You are mistaken - my name is Zenyatta."

_"See? It does not feel nice, does it?"_

"I sincerely hope you did not get the impression that I would question your pain, my friend, for I never intended to do that. Now, tell me, why do you seek my help, and not the help of others?"

_"Since you're a psychic, and everything is as the Universe makes it to be, can you tell me why everyone calls me Gee? Why is it so difficult for them to call me G? G is so easy, it's literally easier to say than Gee."_

"It is wrong of them to intentionally call you Gee," said Zenyatta.

Mondatta gestured with his hands and said through their intercom: _"It is a prank call."_

 _"It might not be,"_ Zenyatta replied and turned his attention back to the infamous G. Of course he knew it could have been a prank call - but he had no other choice but to take the caller seriously. Who knew what kind of damage he could do in the offchance of G being serious, and him being completely dismissed? Being ignored was the worst pain Zenyatta could have imagined.

 _"I know it is. Please, give me the wisdom to forget or forgive them or ignore them."_ A sniffle came through the line again, completed with a snort. _"Please, Zenyana."_

"I have had a lot of experiences with forgiveness. Some things, you must let slide."

_"I can not let it slide! Zenya- Zen- Zenyattoli, do you think I should change my name to K instead? Not Kay, but just the sound K, do you think it would help?"_

"I, well, it might change the situation at least..."

It had been a long time since Zenyatta had been so confused. What was he to answer? He tried to reach for the Iris to find out what was the true cause for confusion and distress in the caller. He heard distress and his golden arms pushed an urge to be revealed into Zenyatta's system. The distress did not, would not, connect to the problem G was talking about, but something else entirely, something that vibrated from his voice whenever it cracked to the lower sound from the odd, forced, nasal tone.

"Your distress will be easier to manage, G," said Zenyatta with the most reassuring tone he could muster. "I do not believe your close ones harbour any bad feelings towards you. However, they do not know how to show their care enough to take into account your feelings about your name. Perhaps, they have problems with taking into account your wants and desires all in all."

The line went quiet. With clarity, the Iris showed Zenyatta that the will of his arms was right. The caller needed care.

"G? Are you there?"

_"I gotta go. Thanks."_

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

  
  
Genji's hand shook. He knew he had to call Hanzo. He had to tell him something comforting, to be there for him more. He knew. Hanzo's name flashed on the screen of his phone while Mondatta talked on the screen of the television. The arcade game meeting was already afoot, and he had not gone. Meeting with Zenyatta was going to begin soon, and Genji was going to be late. He was going to be late because of his mood, because of his slowness, the crying that had not come and the courage that did not manifest itself in any other form than the audacity to not call his family. Would Hanzo even pick up the phone? He had not called Genji in a while. And while Genji thought that it would be a blessing, to have some peace from his family for a change, it left him worried.

What if Hanzo was just as tired as Genji was of these phone calls? He knew Hanzo cared. He wanted to say that. World around his hand and his phone spun like in a carousel, and he did not know how to stop it from happening. It kept on going. It went and went and went and Genji wanted it to cease its movement and let him focus on gathering courage, but all courage he found slipped through his fingers, eluded him completely and utterly. A part of him felt as if calling Hanzo would not close in the distance between them. A part of him felt as if he was so separate from the world that a phone call would just push him further away from it.

He closed the screen of the phone, slipped his feet into his sneakers and took his bag with him. He did not want to be very late from a meeting with Zenyatta. He could disappoint his family continuously, but disappointing Zenyatta? That was not an option. Not now that their friendship was budding so well. Not now that they had this close connection with more than just the telephone.

Genji jogged his way to the earlier bus stop and got his heart pumping. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and a blush appeared on his cheeks in the chilly autumn afternoon air. He took great delight from meeting with Zenyatta time and time again, and hoped that this would not be the last time. The first times had been good, and Zenyatta seemed to like him. The thought of Zenyatta liked him pleased him, made him smile, even giggle a bit into his scarf.

Zenyatta liked him, Genji Shimada, as a person. He had never felt so happy about another person liking him, be it artificial or organic. Another soul felt some kind of fondness towards his own conduct. And even though Genji felt he was an imposter for the most part, it boosted his confidence. Today, he had combed his hair better, shaved his face cleaner, plucked a few hairs from his eyebrows to accentuate their shape. Would Zenyatta have considered that as a symbol of vanity?

And why would it matter even if he had? Genji did a few jumping jacks on the bus stop and didn't care about the people giving him second looks. It was hard to stay put. He could not even put music on, so excited was he. The headphones bounced up and down against his shoulders as he kept on leaping, from foot to foot, waiting for the bus to come in the chilly autumn weather. The woollen vest and the hoodie underneath it were a bit scruffy-looking, he had to admit, but he didn't feel like specifically dressing up for Zenyatta either.

Zenyatta liked him as a person. Hanzo, did he like him? Did his own brother like him, at all, on any level? He knew he at least cared, but did he like Genji? He grit his teeth and stepped into the bus and stared outside as the bus rolled away from the bus stop, towards the part of town where Zenyatta and his brother lived. He had slept well the night before, just like Zenyatta had told him to sleep. After a meditation session, sleep came easier, but the thoughts still wandered around in his brain.

Before he knew it, he was by the right stop, and stepped out of the bus. Headphones still idle, he listened to the sounds the part of town made, the humming of passing cars and the faint music from households where Friday evenings had more action than in others. The house where Mondatta and Zenyatta lived was right in front of him, and with springy steps he ran to the building, stepped inside, and knocked on the door. There was a doorbell, too, but he had always been more comfortable about knocking than ringing the doorbell. Just like Hanzo was.

But with Hanzo, he thought the behavior as odd. He tried to listen to approaching footsteps, to determine when to prepare for the door opening while looking around the hallway. It smelled musky in the staircase, and the light above was yellow in colour, a dim yellow that made a seeing person doubt their seeing abilities.

His heart jumped in his throat when Zenyatta opened the door. Of course - he had no footsteps. Genji smiled and became terribly aware of his looks just then - did he look good? Did he look tired? Would Zenyatta even meditate him in this state?

"How do you do," he said and regretted it immediately. _'How do you do'_? This was not a periodical drama from the British Isles, this was him talking with someone who was going to teach him more meditation. Zenyatta made way for him, and something seemed to hold his head down a bit.

"No, really, how are you?" he asked. "You look a bit down."

Zenyatta held his chin downwards and after having closed the door, he fiddled with his fingertips more than usually. Or, more than Genji knew, which was not really anywhere close to 'usually', but he did not for sure fiddle with his fingertips when on air, and he had not done it the few times they had met before. Zenyatta let out a metallic sigh through his systems.

"I am burdened by a personal problem."

"Where's Mondatta?" asked Genji. Zenyatta waved his hand.

"He is outside."

"On the street?" asked Genji and felt his feet sink a bit deeper into the floor. Some people, like him, had money to waste on television psychics. Some people, like these artificial ones, had to beg for their everyday living.

"It's no way to live," he mumbled. "You two are so, you know... Dignified."

"I appreciate your concern, Genji," said Zenyatta. "I also appreciate your presence at this moment. My mind is filled with worry over my brother. I would like to, perhaps, go on a walk with you to clear my mind."

"So no meditation?" Genji said. Zenyatta shook his head. Genji noticed that the movement was robotic, which of course made him feel a tad silly in its obviousness.

"We could go on a walk. I can sense within you similar restlessness from before, but perhaps today it would only cause you to not focus much on our exercises. I would also appreciate company during a walk, and I know a nice park nearby."

Genji shrugged. "Sure, why not. Pretty cool how you could read my mind just now."

"I am no clairvoyant. But the way you stand, the sweat on your brow and the way you move, fidget, a little, makes me think you would appreciate moving more than staying still at this moment."

Genji could not deny it. They left the building after agreeing on the walk, and outside air met them with its chilly benevolence.

Of course, it had not passed Zenyatta's attention that Genji looked sharper than he had before. His eyebrows had a sharper shape and his hair was more carefully combed back into a ponytail. No sign of growing beard was on his chin and his black hair was shiny. Zenyatta found himself intrigued by the piercings on the young man's face, interested in their material and placements and how well taken care of they seemed.

Genji pushed his hands into the pockets of his loose, comfortable pants and glanced at the Omnic hovering beside him. "So, uh, you're worried?"

"About Mondatta, yes," Zenyatta said. The worries curled inside of him after having been pushed down for so long. Someone, a human called Genji, was fishing them out. Zenyatta saw no reason to not let it happen.

"Your brother, right?"

"My brother in a way you may not find familiar," said Zenyatta. "We were manufactured together, to be a set of sorts. But he is also my brother in belief, like our siblings in the Iris are."

"I remember you telling that there's many of you." Genji asked. "The, uh, others made your orbs, right? I've only seen you two, though. I guess you're the only ones on TV."

Genji found it easy to step into Zenyatta's shoes for a while - to receive, rather than give, worried words and to think of things to say to them. The empathy he had for Hanzo morphed into empathy for Zenyatta.

"Most of us have already travelled to Nepal. There is a temple there, found, renovated and repurposed by us."

"Have you visited them?" asked Genji.

A sorrow, a longing shrouded Zenyatta's emotions. "We have not. We have not had the resources to do so."

The orbs floated closer to Zenyatta's neck and stood still as if they were but an extremely heavy necklace. They looked as if they were shielding the unprotected neck, shielding Zenyatta better than the robes that he wore, better than any of the plating he had covering his fine wires.

"Are you planning to?" Genji asked carefully.

"We are," Zenyatta answered calmly. "From our small paycheck, we save money every week to do so."

"I see."

"Not only to visit... But to stay there. To leave this all behind."

"How much do you have saved?"

Genji and Zenyatta took a turn to a brightly lit park avenue. As the evening dimmed down, the blue glow of Zenyatta's orbs shone brighter, similar to the intensity of his forehead lights.

"We need two more months to have plane tickets' worth."

"How long have you been saving?"

"Three long years. You see, we have to cover our rent and our maintenance too."

A metallic sigh came through his system. It weighed him down even more than his full metal parts "However, I believe that Mondatta is taking our saving a bit too seriously."

"Really?"

"He refuses to go to maintenance," Zenyatta said. "He feels it is more important to get to Nepal fast than it is to get his fans cleaned, and thus slow down our saving progress."

"That's kind of... short-sighted, don't you think?"

"What do you think he should do, then?"

"Maintain himself." Genji shrugged. "We can't reach our long-term goals if we don't take care of ourselves in the process, you know."

"I do know. He does not listen to me."

A melancholy set in his voice in a way Genji thought impossible from a machine. Something about this made him grow fonder, made a warm feeling spread inside him in both a compassionately uncomfortable and a desired manner. It made him walk a bit closer to Zenyatta, but not stare at him for too long. Compassion was the right word, he felt. He  _knew_ it was. He felt compassion towards who he had initially thought of as nothing but a scam. That was what caused him the discomfort that lay ground for his compassion.

"That's... a shame."

"He believes the most important thing for us is to think of us collectively, the Shambali siblings and congregation. Not of ourselves as individuals."

"Isn't that against your liberation though? That... You know, the idea that each Omnic is an individual."

"Here, Mondatta and I differ. He believes that if we are all taught about the Iris, we are one in the Iris. I have begun to believe that individuals are the key to enlightenment."

"So it's been different before?"

"The more I work at the TV station, the more I realise that preaching to a lot of people at once is never going to be as effective as helping somebody individually. One life saved is a whole world saved."

As Zenyatta talked, he felt the golden arms vibrate within his being, not visible to the human accompanying him. His need to help and his feelings of uselessness both fed the other. The pair of them approached the middle of the park, and Zenyatta stopped.

"Tell me, Genji... Is my worry over Mondatta justifiable?"

"Yeah, totally." Genji stopped as well and turned to face Zenyatta. The air was still, no wind blew between them. "I think he should take some money out of your savings to take care of himself. It worries you, too. He's not the only one suffering."

"You are very insightful, Genji."

"Eh, I dunno about that."

"You must be. I see, sense, it within you. Why else would you become a teacher, if you did not have a skill for interpersonal insight?"

"Maybe just to show someone that I don't have to be what they want me to be?" said Genji and rolled his eyes.

"In that case, you could have become anything else." Zenyatta let his fingers cross, pressed his thumbs and forefingers together. His fine metal parts glistened in the cold lights of the street lamps.

"You think?"

"Being a teacher is a calling. If you wanted to study something just to show someone you can do something else than what they want you to, you could have picked a much easier way."

"They seem to think that I'm just showing off."

"Are you?" Zenyatta asked. "You said that Mondatta is not the only one suffering - that he, by not maintaining himself, makes those who care about him also suffer. Do you think that you would, by only showing off, make others suffer?"

"Maybe."

"If you chose a career path just to be different, would that not give you great pain in the long run?"

"Possibly."

"Would you do that to yourself? Have you considered your future with your career?"

"Yes I have."

"How do you see your career?"

"I, well, I see myself teaching gym classes to kids," said Genji and shrugged. "In the best cases I could prevent... Bullying, stuff like that. Gym classes are really bad for many kids, and, and I'd like to make a difference."

"We agree on interpersonal relationships being the key to making a difference, do we not?"

"I guess we're both gonna be teachers of sorts." Genji waved his hand in the air. "Well, you _are_ anyway, I'm _gonna be_ one."

"I believe I have learned a lot from you already, Genji."

"What have you learned? That humans are really weird?" asked Genji. He wondered if Zenyatta had figured him out already. It'd be weird if he hadn't. If he had, he was keeping it secret, for sure. If Zenyatta had figured Genji out, he sure had learned a lot from the human, about human nature and about Genji himself. What a strange, multi-faceted thing one human being could be.

"That, among other things."

Genji laughed.

"I learned that sometimes parkour helps me find unexpected friends."

"Parkour?"

"I wouldn't have caught that thief who took Mondatta's tips if I wasn't so... Hmm, nimble, agile."

"Ah!" Zenyatta said and lifted a finger. "It is true. Things happen the way they are supposed to."

"You believe in that?"

"My friend," said Zenyatta and placed a hand on Genji's shoulder. "More and more every day."

He squeezed the shoulder gently and began moving down the park avenue again. Genji nearly forgot to follow, overwhelmed by full-body shivers that Zenyatta's touch inspired on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was cringing so much while writing Genji's prank call, help me


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Zenyatta go enjoy a movie. The movie night has a shocking, yet not surprising, turn for both Genji and Zenyatta.

"Would you like to hang out with me?" Genji asked. On the phone, Zenyatta sounded the same as he sounded on TV whenever they were on the phone together. His throat dried and he wiped his sweating hand to his grey sweatpants as he ground his teeth.

 _"Hang out with you?"_ asked Zenyatta. _"What a great idea."_

"I thought you had a free day today," said Genji. "There's a fun movie I'd like to watch. Wanna come see it with me?"

 _"A film? Oh! Is it_ Revenge of the Nurse Bots _?"_

"Actually, yes."

_"With Thespion 4.0?"_

"That very one," said Genji with a smile. He had been right to choose this very movie to propose to his new bot friend. "It's scheduled for later this evening."

 _"I believe I do not have the funds for a ticket,"_ said Zenyatta, much more sadly. Genji laughed, tried to make it sound more charming than annoying.

"I can pay for you."

_"I could not possibly accept that."_

"Let's say it's a payback for the meditation session," Genji said. "Last time, I think I got somewhere again. I think we can rank it up to four minutes."

_"Not three?"_

"We can skip the three," Genji said. "I was so calm last time."

It was true. The last few times they had met, two times exactly, the two minutes had been increasingly easier. His thoughts, they had flooded his mind, but he had handled his worry over Hanzo greatly. Still, of course he had not called Hanzo on his own, but he felt like he was closer to doing it.

_"Let us talk about that before or after the film, Genji."_

"See you at the Cine Cinema."

_"I cannot wait, Genji."_

Last time he had brought his own pillow and talked more about getting them a rug for the floor to decrease the echo in the apartment. Zenyatta had been receptive to the idea. Genji closed the furniture shop page on his laptop, put the screen down and reached to turn off the television.

It was again Mondatta's shift at the station. His movements had a slower feel to them, and Genji's brow wrinkled as he watched the bigger robot gesture as he talked. His voice had a side tone that made it sound as if he spoke through a walkie-talkie - a good walkie-talkie, but one of those nonetheless. He hoped that Mondatta had listened to Zenyatta when they had talked about it. Genji put his phone and his wallet to a fabric bag and left for the movie theatre.

It was a crispy late autumn afternoon, and Genji dug his chin deep into his scarf as he stepped up the slight uphill before the movie theatre. The cinema was in an old factory area, and the alley taking him towards it was narrow and stony. A cold wind blew through it and he sighed in relief as he stepped into the theatre building, took off the scarf and stuck it into his tote bag with a frog logo on it. A hovering figure noticed him, greeted him with a wave of his hand, and Genji walked to Zenyatta, greeting him with a smile.

"Hey there. Hope I'm not late."

"Not at all, Genji," said Zenyatta. He pointed at the tote bag Genji had on his shoulder. "Is that the symbol of Lúcio?"

"Yep, it is."

"Do you like his music?"

"Love it."

"Oh my," Zenyatta said and placed his fingertips on his chin. "What a coincidence."

"Why?"

"I like his music as well."

"Really?" Genji asked. "I think his music is pretty cool, I like his, uh, like, his background and how he never, you know, forgot about his roots."

"It is quite admirable," said Zenyatta. "I do not have many idols, but I do aspire to have a similar approach to my past as well."

The information Genji had received many days ago - that Zenyatta and Mondatta were saving money to leave the city - stung in his heart. He batted the sadness it brought away and gestured towards the ticket line, in front of an automated machine that dispensed the snacks and the tickets.

"I have listened to his music ever since the Iris found me," said Zenyatta. "You see, before that, most creations by humans frightened me."

"Including Omnics?" Genji said.

Zenyatta had told him about how the Iris had found him. The story did all in all sound quite unbelievable - a force of the Universe suddenly filling a room full of Omnics into even more sentient beings than they had initially been programmed to be, installing a belief of a higher plane of existence into each and every one of them. A willingness to help everyone coming from a divine source sounded like a story from religious texts, not from real life.

But had he any reason to not believe Zenyatta? Why would he lie, especially when he showed clearly that he could channel some kind of energy into hovering, into manipulating objects around him telekinetically.

"Including other Omnics, yes," Zenyatta responded. "I could not believe that you humans are capable of creating anything beautiful, or of truly helping one another in any way, including making one another feel better. It was, of course, a paradox, seeing to how your kind created our kind to make your lives easier."

"That sure worked out well."

"It did not at all. I had every reason to believe that humans can not make up things that would elevate one's aesthetic pleasures."

Genji and Zenyatta moved forward in the queue.

"Then you found Lúcio," said Genji.

"Then the Iris found me, and then I found music and other artifacts of human production. Mondatta, he is not as interested in aesthetic and musical pleasures as I am. I have always had a taste for music and the cinema. I do not think I can enjoy either of them quite enough."

The excitement in Zenyatta's voice sounded like that of a very enthusiastic human, a young human, at that. Yet another facet that Genji had uncovered from the TV psychic - being a fan, and experiencing admiration towards somebody Zenyatta had never met.

"So Lúcio is your favourite?"

"Absolutely. I do not listen to music often."

"I do, but I mostly listen to it to distract myself or to drown out other noises."

"Drown out other noises?" said Zenyatta as they moved forward in the line. "Please, do elaborate."

"I just like to have my own peace even when I'm out in public. It stops people from talking to me when I don't wanna. Well, I mean, some people at least," Genji said with a shrug.

"How peculiar. Yet, understandable."

"Hey," someone said from behind them. A deep, manly voice with a mean tone made a nervousness program boot up in Zenyatta's system. That was exactly the kind of voice Genji wanted to keep out by keeping his headphones on. Any human voice, really, that wanted something from him.

He tried to ignore the voice and come up with something to say to Zenyatta. However, an awkward silence fell between them, a silence that Genji could interpret as nothing but a scared one.

"What's an Omnic doing in a human venue?" asked the human. Zenyatta felt it as his responsibility to answer, and was about to turn around. Genji pressed a hand on his draped shoulder.

"Leave him alone. Just ignore him."

"Sometimes neglecting to acknowledge someone's presence is bliss," said Zenyatta. "Sometimes it can escalate a situation. He asked me a question, I am going to answer-"

"None of your business," the man said to Genji. The man seemed scarred, and anger flared in his eyes like a flame. Genji became painfully aware of Zenyatta being the only Omnic in the premises, from what he could see.

"I am going to enjoy a movie with my companion here," Zenyatta said. "What movie are you going to see, my friend?"

Taken aback by the sudden kindness, the man pointed his finger at Zenyatta. "I'm not staying at a cinema that lets killing machines wander in like nothing."

"I believe I am not programmed for that. Please, do rest assured."

"You're one of those. You know, some of my friends died in the crisis."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Zenyatta, with deep regret in his voice. He bowed his head down and placed his hand on his chest. "I really am."

"Fuck off with your fake regret. You can't know how I feel. You can't know _how to feel_. You can't be sorry for something others did."

"Dude, then why don't you stop blaming him?" Genji butted in. Zenyatta lifted a hand to calm him down, but Genji slapped the hand away and pointed his finger at the big man.

"Why don't you take your macho act somewhere else?"

"None of your business, kiddo."

"Yeah, our movie date is none of your business either, yet you decided to make it yours."

"I'm taking my money to another place," the man said. "You might wanna reconsider your security protocols," he continued and looked menacingly at the security people that had taken a few meaningful steps towards him. Uniformed customer service workers looked down, most customers looked away from the situation, ignoring it.

Genji waved his hand at the back of the man who was already at the doors. "Yeah, fuck off."

"Genji, please calm down."

"Calm down? That dude almost attacked you."

"Only his mind was restless. He did not seem violent."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, Genji," Zenyatta said and advanced in the queue. "I know violent men when I see them."

The matter-of-factly tone of Zenyatta's words halted Genji for a moment, and he forgot to walk forward towards the ticket automat. Did he know violent people when he saw them? He did not, for he did not have to.

Genji made it a point to change the topic of their discussion to something else entirely. He didn't want to discuss his brother or the threatening man or anything else but the movie they were about to see, and with a short discussion he determined many interesting things about Zenyatta. That the Omnic robot was interested in cinema. That the Omnic had watched many films on his own, but wished to see more. That he liked music. That he had music he liked and also music he did not enjoy so much.

And that he made Genji smile. Genji realized he fact in his mind as a full sentence, and it made his heart beat faster. He typed in the name of the movie, paid the purchase with his credit card in the machine, and thought about his bank account for a minute. The bank account had been topped up by his father a while ago, again, so he had no fear of not affording their tickets.

"I do feel strange about you buying me the ticket," Zenyatta said. "I do hope this does not place you in financial distress, Genji."

"A movie ticket is the least I can do for you," said Genji and took out the printed tickets. "It's in number eight. I took the 2D-version of the movie, I can't stand the 3D-glasses..."

"I would not enjoy the 3D effect much myself," said Zenyatta and followed Genji as they set their course for the back of the cinema where the movie would be.

"Right, I guess it's not delivered the same way for Omnics."

"Two dimensions are enough for me."

"I once took my shoes off in the cinema," said Genji as they walked. His footsteps took him from the stony floor to the carpeted part, where steps were muffled to not disturb the films that were being showed at the moment.

"And my brother, he said to me, 'I know this is a 3D movie, but i don't need the smell effect also'! And Father also laughed."

"In the middle of the film?" Zenyatta said with a chuckle. Genji waved his hands in the air.

"In the middle of the film! We were told to shut the hell up, though..."

"How old were you?" Zenyatta asked. The thought of a human taking off their shoes in the middle of a film felt outrageous, almost impolite, but he did not think any less of Genji.

"I was like fifteen."

"What movie was it?"

"I don't even remember. I just remember my brother complaining about the smell of my feet."

"My brother does not enjoy films the way I do," Zenyatta said. When he thought of it, Mondatta would not have even been able to enjoy a movie in his current, coughing state. It was all quite worrisome, but Zenyatta had told Mondatta to not hesitate contacting him if he felt too ill. He kept the communications channel open at all times.

"Oh yeah, you told me."

"He swears to different joys of the soul, let us say."

"Soul?" Genji said. They stood by a tall table near the door number eight, and Genji leaned his elbows to it.

"Yes."

"So you guys have a soul, huh."

"That is a long discussion to have. I am not that certain of the existence of the soul."

"I like it that you can say you're not sure of something," said Genji. The concept of an uncertain machine, on top of everything, fascinated Genji greatly. Before he could say anything more about it, their topic of discussion went back to Lúcio, and how Zenyatta wished he could attend a concert of his one day, perhaps in the future.

That conversation was cut short. Zenyatta felt excitement power over the fear he had felt earlier due to the random distressed man who'd had a problem with Zenyatta's existence. Genji was a young man with a lot of emotions within him, but he was not just a sum total of his emotions - he was a fully realized being with interests and preferences Zenyatta was curious about. He let his system focus more on the joy that their newly found interest sparked within him. He let his system focus on the curiosity and the questions that formed a queue of things he wanted to say, but held back in the name of courtesy for now.

One thing he did want to reveal. He felt it was appropriate for him to do that. Genji's familiar voice and the two different facades he had, those made Zenyatta want to combine them and show Genji that he wanted to know more about both sides he had. The fact that this man had so many wildly different ways of conducting himself made Zenyatta wonder what was behind all of it. How was Genji so good at keeping up appearances, at pretending? As Genji talked more about music he liked, Zenyatta tilted his head and calculated the right moment. Mondatta and he believed not in moments that were 100% right, but some moments were more right than others.

Because in life, as he knew and had learned during his existence, no moment was right. There are no such things as right moments, because every moment is also a wrong moment for something. Some aspect of what one wants to do is always wrong in every moment, and as Zenyatta watched Genji's smile and the signs of perhaps rare carefree attitude, he also recognized the moment as utterly wrong for a confession like what he had in mind. He recognized, also, that he would feel any other moment to be wrong, too. He would either not want to deepen Genji's distress, or not bring him down, or not change a good mood for anything else, or not affect his bad mood negatively, just in case.

The wisdom about grasping the moment held true, and it resonated right within Zenyatta. The door to the cinema hall was opened, and they walked nearby, showed their printed tickets, and Genji took the lead as he walked them to their seats. Zenyatta did not sit, but hovered only a little bit above the comfy seat.

Genji frowned and nodded towards Zenyatta's lower parts. "Not sitting?"

"I do not find contact with chairs comfortable," said Zenyatta. Genji glanced behind them, making sure that Zenyatta's head did not bother anybody. The room was by no means packed full. Genji shrugged.

"It's kinda funny."

"Is it? Why?"

"You could sit, but you don't."

"We are all capable of doing things we choose to not do," Zenyatta said. "And we all do things we are not required to do, just because we can."

The perfect moment came. The lights dimmed as the advertisements started rolling.

"Is that not right," Zenyatta said and turned his head to Genji. "...Gengo?"

Genji regretted not getting a bowl of popcorn, for he realised right off the bat that he wanted to drown himself in something. Zenyatta tilted his head, and then something attracted his attention on the screen, and very interested was he in whatever it was. Genji felt a heat rise on the skin behind his ears, and from there it travelled to his cheeks. Through his cheeks, it crawled down towards his torso and the weight that had appeared in the middle of his stomach, in the pit of his body, in where his waist was, and it curled up and down in a maelstrom of emotions. His feet were cold, his toes like icicles, and he slowly looked away from the Omnic, past the screen.

_"I sense great distress from you, Gengo. I can feel tension from your voice. Maybe calling here was a strike of luck for you?"_

The old nickname he had given his silly prank caller persona came back to bite him in the buttocks and he sank deeper into his chair. They were seated in the middle of the row, and running away would have caused too much of a hassle. He felt his jaw tremble and his mouth fell dry, he glanced at Zenyatta and wondered if he was going to continue talking. But he was not. He was way too well behaved to talk in the middle of a film, even during commercials. The commercial that was running was that of some rich people car, maybe one of those his own father had.

Genji had seen it coming. Surely he had seen it coming. Of course Zenyatta recognized his voice and knew he was this "Gengo" or "G" or the Anonymous One or whatever the hell he had agreed on calling Genji. Of course he had known - so why did it come so out of the blue for Genji?

Why did Genji feel as if the shame was eating him alive? And why did it push tears in his eyes? Why did he want to scream? Why did he struggle to find words to a conversation that was not there? He ached all over and wanted to, for a lack of a more descriptive phrase, die and be swallowed by the very Earth they lived on.

A flash of anger came over Genji and he gave a murderous glance to Zenyatta's direction. At that moment, the lights were turned off completely, and Zenyatta dimmed his own forehead lights as the opening title credits started rolling. The blue glow of the screen shone from Zenyatta's surface, showing how clean and smooth it was _not_ , showing every dent and smudge. It dissipated Genji's anger as quickly as it had come.

Genji took a deep breath and focused on the screen. The handsome face of Thespion 4.0 appeared, and Genji thanked his stars that this action flick was only one hour and thirty minutes long. Any longer, and he may just have spontaneously combusted on the spot.

Zenyatta reached for his hand and placed he cool metal fingers on top of it. Genji gasped sharply. Zenyatta gave him a long, lingering look.

"Do not worry," Zenyatta said quietly. "Just enjoy the film, Genji."

Genji nodded. He trusted Zenyatta and chose to believe him, chose to enjoy the film as he had been told to.

 

* * *

 

"You knew all along?"

Genji could not answer the question about whether he had enjoyed the movie or not. Zenyatta turned around when they had exited the corridor with the flow of people after the movie, and tilted his head in confusion, not getting an answer to his question.

"Knew that the nurses were right from the beginning, or knew that you are the Anonymous One?"

So there was no doubt about it whatsoever. Genji wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and nodded. The scent of rain was about in the air, in the glistening street lights lighting up the asphalt abyss.

"The latter."

"I knew for a while, but I could not be certain." Zenyatta spread his arms into a shrug that would have been comical, were Genji not so nervous at that moment. "Had you not been the Anonymous One, I would have been terribly embarrassed to make such a _revelation_."

"You placed me to a pit of embarrassment for the whole film," Genji said with needles in his voice.

"Genji," Zenyatta said and hovered closer. The parking lot the exit had taken them to was lively, but no one stopped to listen to the conversation between the human and the Omnic.

"I was afraid you would run away had I told you," he continued.

"Do I seem like the kind who would? Who would run away from something like that just because I'm embarrassed?"

"You do," Zenyatta said. "I do not remember too many conversations we actually finished after I sensed within you even a hint of embarrassment."

"Oh yeah?" Genji said and took a step back. He wanted to prove Zenyatta wrong, but he also wanted to run away. Zenyatta reached for his shoulder, and touched it with his hand.

"Please, Genji. I enjoy your company. I do not want to embarrass you or send you away from me. I had a wonderful time with you today, and..."

Genji blinked rapidly. Zenyatta noticed how long his lashes were.

"...And I wish to repeat it. I wanted you to sit in the embarrassment for a while, and then, perhaps, handle it in a mature manner."

"I want to be swallowed by this road we're standing on," Genji said and pointed towards the pavement. "And never be spat out, even if I do taste salty and bitter."

Glee twirled in Zenyatta. This Genji started to sound more and more similar to the Anonymous One - and vice versa, in a way. The two were the same person. The willingness to help had been roused in Zenyatta, and at the same time, his fondness was aimed at one person only, not multiples.

"Please, do not run away in fear. I wish to have a friend from you, truly."

"Even though I harassed you on air multiple times?"

"You also brought us some income and let me show my boss I can handle tough cases such as you."

Genji found that he quite liked the warm tone Zenyatta equipped just then. He smiled through the embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

"I guess that's right."

"Wonderful!"

Genji's heart leaped in his throat due to the joyful exclamation. Zenyatta was happy about his presence, and it never failed to amuse Genji. They both, as they walked down the road towards the bus stop, forgot about the bully in the cinema hall and discussed the finer plot points of the splatter film that Zenyatta was surprisingly pleased about.

They stopped at a crossing, and Zenyatta got an incoming call.

"My apologies, Genji, I am being contacted by..."

He went silent. Genji frowned.

"Who?"

"...My superior." Why was Max calling him at this hour?

"Maybe he wants you to come and work?" Genji said.

"He does not call me to work from this number," Zenyatta said. He took the call.

Max's voice was angry, it seethed with spikes and poison.

_"Your brother has collapsed while on air. Come and get him, and get him fixed."_

"Collapsed?" Zenyatta repeated. The lights turned green. Genji felt like a weight set in the pit of his stomach. He did not even know what it was about, but he felt it was bad.

_"Yeah, in the middle of everything. Get 'im fixed, I can't tolerate this. This better not repeat itself."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Depression and life got on the way. But here we are! The revelation is finally here!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Zenyatta rush to get Mondatta to get his repairs done. Genji and Zenyatta find mutual support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little warning: Parent death mention and some excessive swearing in this chapter!

"He's what?" Genji said as they got into the bus. Zenyatta took a hold of Genji's hand and drilled the look of his camera eyes into his. Genji felt as if a deep stare had been pushed into him, and as if something was being demanded from him, but he did not know what. Was it comfort, love, strength, support, whatever it was, he did not know which one to apply to the situation at hand. The bus they had taken was different from what would take them home.

"Collapsed while on air," Zenyatta repeated what Max had said. The phone call had ended as abruptly as it had come, and nervousness and confusion filled his systems. The only grounding thing was Genji, a young human man who'd had a fascination in his services on air and who now had turned out to be also a frequent prank caller with very real issues from time to time.

"I am not surprised, but I do feel fear in this moment," Zenyatta said.

"Does it bother you that this fucking fuck thinks it's somehow your fault?"

"It does," Zenyatta said. "But it is nothing new."

"That's how he treats you? On a regular basis?" Genji said. Anger flared in him again as he thought about it. If a human fainted on air, people would be worried - not angry at their brother, or at them, for that matter.

"If we do not comply, he will not stand us on air any more, and we will be back where we started."

Genji's anger was fuelled by the lack of emotion in Zenyatta's robotic voice. Somehow, when he was supposed to feel so much more, he did not show it, and Genji could not accept it.

"Then we must fight," Genji said. "Fight for your rights."

"That is what we are doing, but alas, most of the time the right thing to do is to endure it, and then escape when you have enough resources."

"Do you really believe that?" Genji said. "Didn't we just see that in the movie? The nurse bots paid revenge to those who did them wrong."

"Revenge is not justice."

"Well, I'm not saying revenge _per se_ , but I'm more meaning to, like, ask if it's the right thing to do run away when you can help make a change here," Genji said. He sighed in frustration. "This is the wrong moment to talk about this, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

"We'll get Mondatta fixed now," Genji said. "Maybe that's enough revenge for that fucker."

"Do calm down, Genji," Zenyatta said and squeezed his hand. Secretly, however, he was glad about the surrogate anger Genji was feeling for him. He himself could not properly express anger, and did not even wish to express it, but to see someone get so fired up about injustice towards him, felt good.

"I can't."

"Do try, at least," Zenyatta said. "Think of things with clarity."

"Aren't you scared?" Genji said. "If Hanzo ever collapsed suddenly like that while working, I would be..."

"I did tell you that I am. But I choose to not let it come over me."

"How do you choose something like that?"

"Perhaps it is easier said than done. Especially when I say it as a robot," Zenyatta admitted. "But a long time meditating has helped me reign in my emotions."

"How is that, like, a good thing?" Genji asked. The anger and the disappointment Genji felt, it all wound up together with the embarrassment and adrenaline from earlier. He wrapped the sleeve of his hoodie and then pulled it back down to have something to do with his hands.

"How?"

"How can you not be afraid? I just, I don't get it. If you feel something, you gotta let yourself feel it."

"I know, Genji. But I know to save my emotions for the day when the events are behind." Zenyatta placed his fingertips together and sighed. The sigh was long, and it made a sigh curl up in Genji's own chest, a sigh he let out with a long exhale through his nose.

"Will I ever learn that?" Genji asked. He had not meant the question to be asked out loud, but it escaped his lips before he knew it.

"If you keep on practicing mindful presence, I am positive that you will."

Genji kept his thoughts in check, Zenyatta found. When he had someone he was accountable to, worries and fear did not dim his reasoning or his emotions. Genji's questions and wonder did not let anger bubble up to the top and smother Zenyatta's reason. When he spoke his grains of wisdom out loud, he heard them himself as well, and he felt that it was easier to actually let them soak in.

"Are there benefits?" Genji asked. "Or does it just smother it?"

"No," Zenyatta said. "It simply re-channels it. Energy cannot disappear, but it can change form. Motion can become sound, warmth can become motion, and so on. It is simple physics."

"Physics, huh," Genji said. The sense that it made was minimal in the moment, but Genji felt that he grasped the main idea of it.

"Any news from Mondatta?" Genji asked. Zenyatta shook his head.

"We should be there soon. Then, we find out."

 

* * *

 

"Take 'im," Max said and pushed Mondatta forward. He let go from underneath his arms before Genji and Zenyatta could react, and the metallic clanking on the asphalt was muffled only by Mondatta's own robes. A yellow light flashed regularly on his forehead, and Zenyatta's blue lights flashed off a few times. He let his knees meet the ground as he took a hold of Mondatta, turned him around to his lap and straightened his wrinkly robe.

Zenyatta called for Mondatta. Mondatta could barely move his head. Genji looked up at the dry-looking gentleman with a pastel green sweater and blond hair.

"Watch out what you're doing, you pompous fuck," Genji said. He found he was about the same height as this Max, the superior of the two Omnics. The staff door was right behind Max who blew cigarette smoke in Genji's face. Genji's eyes watered at the bitter scent.

"Or what?" Max asked. "Or I lose two important assets? Get lost, kiddo."

For the second time that day, someone called Genji _kiddo_. Not to mention that he had called his friends  _assets_. Genji grimaced, showed his teeth like an irritated animal.

"Genji, let it be," Zenyatta said. "We have something more important to do."

"That's right," Max said. His voice was about as pleasant as a badly tuned violin in Genji's ears. "You better get 'im fixed by tomorrow or I'm gonna have to cut your salary."

"Cut their salary? What the hell, this isn't his fault, this is-"

"How is this your business?" Max asked. "Pray tell, young philanthropist."

Genji's lips parted for a response, but the high-pitched metallic sounds of Zenyatta's orbs stopped him from barking any more. The spoiled brat he had been rose within him when he pointed at Max with his finger, and laid out the following words:

"You'll hear about this. This isn't gonna be the last you see of me."

"I'm looking forward to that," said Max. He threw his cigarette on to the asphalt, stomped on it with his shoe, and without much further ado he disappeared indoors. Genji felt how his throat closed up as a lump appeared, and his eyes stung with hatred. Max was a horrible man, and Genji wanted to rush inside, just before the door closed behind Max, run into the corridor and beat him into a pulp.

But as Zenyatta had said, they had something far more important to do. He turned around and grouched next to Mondatta on the other side from Zenyatta.

"Is he..?"

"His system is running," Zenyatta said. "But it is coughing too badly. He needs to be cleaned and his system refreshed as soon as possible."

"Where do we, uh, go do that?"

Zenyatta took a hold of Mondatta's face, placed his fingers underneath his head so his palm held his cheek. He looked at the cameras that stood idle beneath the face plate, listened in horror at the coughing system that whirred unnaturally loud. He hoped it wasn't too late.

"Zenyatta..?" Genji repeated carefully.

"There is a repair shop with good omnimedics in the centre," Zenyatta said. "That's where I go get my repairs and maintenance."

Zenyatta's thumb caressed the hard plastic that covered Mondatta's face. The yellow lights were a disastrous sight for Zenyatta, evoking all kinds of negative emotions within. Mondatta had always been there for him, stood tall and strong, and now he was barely conscious, with his limbs spread on the pavement, looking like a victim of violence, vulnerable and weak.

"Then we go there," said Genji.

"They will take us for parts if we can't pay."

"What?" Genji exclaimed.

"We are not granted health care the way you are, Genji," Zenyatta said and lifted Mondatta to fit in his arms better. His light robes were soaking with the grey colour of water on the ground.

"If we can not pay, we will pay with ourselves."

"I'll pay it."

Genji said it before he'd thought about it. The alternative seemed all too grim. He stood up, showing that he did not take a no for an answer. Zenyatta looked up at him, at the street lamp that cast its light from behind the man and created a shadow in which Zenyatta and Mondatta now were. The tall, confident man squeezed his hands into fists. He looked bigger than he was.

"Genji..."

"Whatever, we need to get him to treatment! Gee, we... I'm gonna call a taxi right now. Let's get to the parking lot before a guard throws us out or something."

They together took a hold of Mondatta from beneath his arms, and Zenyatta resumed his typical hovering. They walked out of the gate and sat Mondatta down against the fence, and Zenyatta cleaned some debris and sand from his robes, folded them to look cleaner. Genji stood in front of them, turned his back at them and typed the taxi number. He called the taxi and told it to drive fast.

 _"Is it an emergency?"_ the operator asked. _"If it is, call an ambul-"_

"I have no time for this, ma'am. We just need a damn taxi, okay?"

_"...Okay."_

It occurred to him to ask for one more thing. The events before the movie flashed before his eyes when he added: "And make it one that also drives Omnics."

 _"...Yes, sir,"_ said the operator. _"We will do that."_

Genji equipped a more friendly tone. "Thank you. And good evening to you."

He hung up and slipped his phone in his pocket. Swiftly he turned back to Zenyatta and Mondatta, and watched as the Omnic took care of his brother. His brow wrinkled as he sank deep in thought. Zenyatta's hands touched Mondatta's chest lightly like a feather, and Genji could hear almost no metallic clicking he had expected from the contact of the two Omnics. Zenyatta let one of his orbs float closer to Mondatta's chest, and he saw how a stream of light started to flow from inside of the orb into Mondatta. Genji's eyes were wide open as he watched the operation.

"What're you doing?"

"A momentary solution," said Zenyatta. "If I help his soul feel more harmonious, perhaps he can hold on longer. It is but a temporary fix in case he is in pain."

The surface of the orb had opened, and the stream of light came from within its hold. It glowed with gold in the evening, like a small star or a warm furnace. The light of it felt warm when Genji faced it, like a flame.

"Harmonious, huh," Genji said. He walked to the other side of where Mondatta sat, and grouched closer. Zenyatta showed no signs of protectiveness over Mondatta in front of Genji. He thought that was a good thing.

The sound the orb made was a metallic flow that calmed Genji down as well. The other orbs went one lap around Zenyatta's neck, then settled close to his jaw. Zenyatta hovered maybe one centimeter above the ground, his toes almost touched the asphalt.

"The taxi should be here in ten or fifteen minutes. It's evening, so it might take a bit longer."

"Let us hope we can wait for that while."

Zenyatta had not intended to sound as hopeless as he had come across as. But sometimes, hopelessness preyed even on Zenyatta's own emotions, and he found it hard to lift his gaze to Genji and say something comforting to them both, to himself. He knew Genji stared at him. He knew his role as the televised psychic who always had something wise to say. He knew he had always had something comforting to say to Genji when Genji was feeling the terror of life in his own heart.

Why was it so hard to apply to himself? Why did his golden arms not reach within himself, and why did the harmony orb not flow its calm within Zenyatta himself? His own blue forehead lights flickered in the same rhythm as Mondatta's yellow lights did for a few times.

"Why are his lights yellow?" Genji asked.

"He is on standby mode now," Zenyatta said. "His system cannot keep him on, so he is basically asleep. Just like the human brain, when it does not receive enough oxygen, it shuts down."

"Huh..."

"And I believe what happened was that Mondatta overheated due to the lack of cleaning of his insides," Zenyatta said. "And his system had to shut down to prevent any further damage."

" _Further_ damage?"

"We can only hope there is none to begin with."

"Has this happened before?"

"It happened to me once," Zenyatta said. "We did not know what was wrong with me, really. It was just a lot of dust from staying outside for so long."

"Right..."

Genji looked at Mondatta's face that, somehow, looked more lifeless than it had earlier. It was the exact same face as it had always been, but something about it was eerily still. Even with the flickering lights. He moved not, he was not twitching and a humanoid figure that showed no signs of breathing was all too frightening for Genji. He had to look up from Mondatta, at Zenyatta.

He saw sorrow, sorrow he had not known could exist in an Omnic robot. A sting in his heart made him bite his lip and a certain type of guilt washed over him. He needed to help. He needed to help more than anything. Zenyatta had been there before, Zenyatta knew what it was like to have this happen to him. Genji had fainted once in his life, but it was not the same. There was a chance for Mondatta to have damage, permanent damage, and there was a chance that he would not wake up.

What if Hanzo were in this situation? What if his own brother were like this - what would he do?

"You were homeless at one point," Genji said.

"We were. We wandered the streets aimlessly, and we usually stayed in only one place. I have a defect in my leg which makes walking more difficult."

"I didn't know that."

"I do not advertise it."

"Probably for a good reason."

After a short silence, Zenyatta said: "You know it."

Their discussion had no room to continue. The taxi drove to them, and just when Genji saw a guard emerge from the TV station back door, looking at them meanly, Zenyatta and Genji helped Mondatta to the taxi, sat in themselves, and Zenyatta gave the address of their trusted omnimedic.

 

* * *

 

"We have to give him a thorough cleaning," said the pale receptionist. The room was dark and dusty, and Genji felt how the air tickled the end of his throat. He leaned to the counter and saw knick-knacks of various sorts on the walls, old metal that was rusty and new metal that shone, plastic parts of different shapes and sizes. Zenyatta was all too familiar with the place, and the receptionist of the small shop of course knew him. He also knew that Zenyatta did not have much credit, so he looked at Zenyatta with a stern gaze.

"We need payment upfront to make sure you can pay."

"I'll pay it," Genji said and gave his credit card. The credit card his father had given him to use for emergencies. "Whatever it takes."

"Genji..."

"Listen, I promised you, and I'm not changing my mind about this."

"Fine," the receptionist said and swiped the card. The sum of money was great - though not as great as Genji had pessimistically expected. He put the card back in his wallet, as the two were escorted to sit on a bench, and Mondatta was taken to the back room. Zenyatta crossed his legs and hovered as usual, Genji sat right next to him, against his leg. Zenyatta's knee came to his lap in the position they were in.

A loud humming started from the back room, and a lot of loud metallic sounds began. Zenyatta fiddled with his fingertips.

"He'll be okay," Genji said. Clock struck ten in the evening. He had a lecture the next day he had to attend. He wanted to ask how long the operation would take more or less, but when he looked at the nervous movements of Zenyatta's hands, he did not know if he wanted to make him think about the issue itself or, rather, distract him at least a bit from it.

And the sentence, _he'll be okay_ , felt like the least imaginative thing to possibly say. How did Genji know? What gave him the right to say something like that? How could he comfort Zenyatta with words that were not certain? And why, why would Zenyatta take words of comfort from someone who had shown so much apprehension towards comfort himself?

The questions circled in his mind but Zenyatta answered it with a movement of his hand. The evening was full of questions from them both. Genji let out a deep sigh, trying to wave some of the questions off.

"You may go home if you so wish," said Zenyatta.

Genji promptly shook his head. "I don't think I wish so."

"Why?" Zenyatta asked. Though partially he _knew_ why - a kindness radiated from Genji, a kindness that was not only left on the receipt of the repair payment, but also in his positioning, his emotions, the way he vibrated within the Iris.

"You wait for things alone quite enough, don't you?"

"I am not alone. I have Mondatta."

"You two are alone in this world now," Genji said. "Until you are reunited with your Nepal friends. There's not much here for you, so, maybe I can... anchor you here a bit further."

"Anchor me," Zenyatta repeated. It sounded like a familiar thing to say - something he himself could have said.

"Yes," said Genji. "I tend to worry myself over, too much, when things like this happen. Though lately, I have worried too little."

Zenyatta tilted his head. "Too little, you say."

"I think my brother is also overworking himself. Like Mondatta is." Genji shook his head. "But this isn't the time to talk about Hanzo..."

"Please, Genji," Zenyatta said. He remembered the talks about the brother who had killed Genji, metaphorically perhaps. A brother who had a smothering tendency to hold Genji back, a tendency to make Genji feel bad about himself, who Genji cared deeply for.

"I find that we share something in common," he continued. "A worry for our brothers. I feel connected to you, Genji, and I wish to know more about you."

"Really?"

"Tell me about Hanzo. I do not want to worry about Mondatta now, for his repairs might take a good hour or so."

Genji sighed. It rattled in the pit of his lungs first, felt like it had little droplets of lead or something just as heavy in it. Pieces of what was holding his mood down, what had held him down for so long.

"You see, my... Our father is a businessman. He owns the Shimada Properties, a real estate business."

That was how he started talking. Then, it poured out of him, in the dusty repair shop. He told Zenyatta about the death of their mother when they had been young, and told Zenyatta how he had never been interested in taking over the company. He told Zenyatta about how hard Hanzo worked for their legacy but how he knew that their father was more interested in the younger son, because the older one was taken for granted. Genji told Zenyatta how his shoulders had become burdened with the idea of taking over the business with Hanzo, who did not like him, who worked in the board of the company with people who also did not like him.

He told Zenyatta why he thought that Hanzo did not like him. He told Zenyatta that during their teenage years they had spent a lot of time together. Hanzo had, due to Father's commands, helped Genji a lot with his mathematics homework. Hanzo had taken some archery courses and run around outside a lot with Genji, but eventually Father had stressed the importance of studies over physical activities with him, and told him to help Genji with his homework, because they were to be business partners in the unforeseen future. Maybe nearer future than they even knew. The thought was frightening to both of the brothers.

But then, Father had given not much scolding words to Genji who had enjoyed parkour with his friends and run around and taken a different course of studies when he had moved away. Father had not applauded it either, but had not given Genji any lectures about it. While Hanzo, who studied his skin off in economics, had barely any time of his own. While Hanzo, who was about to graduate, already had a seat in the chair of the company, reserved for him by Father who he substituted sometimes. While Hanzo, who was only in his twenties and not much older than Genji, had no time to enjoy his own life apart from the Shimada legacy.

Genji told Zenyatta that he did not want to answer the phone. He told Zenyatta that he had not spoken one-on-one with Father in months. He told Zenyatta that the only thing between them just then was Hanzo, who sometimes visited and who kept the secret that Genji was studying education and not economics, that Genji did not take a single accounting class and was not even planning to take Father's place in the chair, and even less become a chairman in the unforeseeable future. He found himself squeezing Zenyatta's cool hand and wiping his own wet cheek with his wrist and he took a few deep breaths and found no more to continue from. Zenyatta had listened to everything. Zenyatta listened to him.

Zenyatta did not ask further questions when Genji shut down finally. He turned his hand a bit enough to squeeze Genji's hand. He felt Genji's suffering, the difficult situation he was in, and gave no simple answers. Genji found the silence comforting. Many people had the compelling need to offer advice in any situation possible, and often that advice was silly and useless. The silence told Genji that Zenyatta was processing his words, and respected the confusion and sadness Genji felt about all of it. He knew Zenyatta knew he loved his brother dearly. And that he would do anything to have him safe and sane.

"When I said he killed me," Genji said once his breathing had calmed down, "I feel like he has? Like... What if he doesn't tell anything about me to Dad? Maybe he tries to have me not exist to him? Which basically is to kill me. I know he won't do that because I know Father cares, but, but sometimes I _feel_ like this is... What it is."

"I would like to get to know him," Zenyatta said. "Your brother, Hanzo."

"Me too," Genji whispered and lowered his head. He hid his teary eyes behind his calloused hand. Zenyatta wrapped his arms around him, and for a hot second Genji thought he saw Zenyatta glow with the golden light of dawn.

A dawn of sorts that moment was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the chapters might take a longer while to come out, because I'm also participating in NaNoWriMo. Thank you for your patience, and thank you so much for staying! I hope many of you are as excited for the final four chapters as I am.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter begins with a flashback to Genji packing before moving away from home. Hanzo and Genji exchange a few escalating words.
> 
> In the main story, Zenyatta and Genji help Mondatta get home. When they arrive to the Omnic brothers' block of flats, something surprising ushers Genji to a chase.

Flashback - Genji and Hanzo

Genji placed the t-shirt in the bag. He folded each of them neatly like he had been taught to. Familiar scents of the room came to his consciousness as clearly as crystal all of a sudden, when he put yet another shirt in the sports bag. Packing up clothes when he was not quite what he was going to wear before he was to leave felt wrong, but he tried to pack up things he would not need now. Winter clothes and things like that. Sports clothes he would leave on the top. He turned around to go to this closet and nearly tripped to a box of books. An economics book peeked from beneath the lid of the moving box, he ignored its presence.

A knock came from the door and Genji told Hanzo to come in. Father was not home, so it could be no one but Hanzo. Father was in a meeting that could last until late night. He had asked Hanzo and Genji to come with, but Hanzo had a statistics exam, and Genji wanted to hang out with his friends in the evening. He had beckoned Hanzo, but not Genji, after having heard both of their reasons.

"Can I come in?" Hanzo asked.

"Yeah."

Hanzo wore a pair of grey sweatpants and a shirt with a blue dragon pattern on it. He wore that getup whenever he crammed for exams or presentations or whatever academic. He rubbed his eye and slid the door open, he leaned to the door frame instead of coming fully in, and let out a sweet yawn. Genji chuckled and shook his his head at it, brought some more clothes to the bed and started to pile them in the bag.

"What's up? How's statistics?"

"Difficult," Hanzo said. "Well, not difficult, it's just simple mathematics."

"You were always better at geometry," Genji said and ended it with a chuckle. They both laughed lightly. The downstairs clock struck ten times. They listened to it as if it had important matters to share. But it was nothing, nothing that warranted the long silence that settled a profound unease in both of their hearts.

"So you're packing," Hanzo said to break the silence. He reached to put a rogue strand of black hair back to the bobby pin that kept it up with the bun his hair was in, out of the way when he had been studying. Genji sported a very similar hairstyle that evening. He wore a shirt with frog patterns on it.

Genji couldn't decipher any emotion from Hanzo's voice. Was it sadness? Whatever it was, it resonated with Genji's own nostalgia that he went through while packing.

"Yeah."

"You're going on Saturday?"

"That's when my rent contract starts."

"You're taking everything with you?"

"I'm not moving to a dorm, Hanzo." Genji turned around to look into his eyes. The bushy eyebrows reminiscent of Genji's own and those of their father wrinkled into a worried look. "I'm moving to my own home."

"I hope you'll be okay there."

"Why wouldn't I be?" asked Genji. He scoffed with a diagonal smirk across his face. "I've always been good at keeping myself together, haven't I?"

A shadow appeared on Hanzo's face when he bowed his head forward. Genji assumed that he did not like hearing that. The smirk disappeared, and at the same time, Genji could see calculations going on in Hanzo's head. It was going to be one of those discussions again, wasn't it?

So he decided to stop it in its starting point, kill it in its crib.

"Hey, I know you have taken care of me, and all, but I'll be fine. It's a question of whether you will be," he said in jest. But the look, the look on Hanzo's face did not disappear - on the contrary, the frown deepened. Genji knew he was right. Would Hanzo survive alone? In the claws of Father's business partners, stressed out by exams and lectures?

Hanzo opened his mouth to speak - to say words Genji would wonder about for days to come. Say things Hanzo would regret _not_ saying, say things he knew would have made no difference in the situation and would not have made Genji stay, but would have told Genji that he was needed. Missed. Wanted.

Instead, he said something else. And Genji knew he'd changed his mind. Hanzo stopped leaning to the door frame.

"I'm gonna be frank with you."

" _Oooookay_ , because... I guess you lie to me all the time, then?"

"Don't make this into a joke, Genji."

Hanzo rarely used Genji's name like that. It made Genji think of their father, which irritated him.

"A joke?"

"You're already snickering at all of this. This is not a joke, Genji, you're moving away from us and essentially abandoning us."

"What the hell  _are_ you talking about?"

"I know you're not gonna study economics."

Genji suddenly felt as if a cold breeze had entered the room, despite its sealed windows and doors.

"What?"

"Yeah, I saw the brochure on your desk when-"

"You went through my stuff?" Genji said. His voice gained a sharp edge. Hanzo shushed him.

"Don't shush me!"

"I didn't go through your stuff, I saw it when you asked me to get your sword earlier, for fencing practice! It's not my fault you leave stuff hanging behind." Hanzo breathed out loud, sounding exasperated beyond belief.

"Teaching? Really?"

"Why _not_?" said Genji. "It's more useful than shitty economics!"

"More useful? What are you gonna do when Father leaves Properties to us? Just sit on your ass and expect all be done for you?"

"I'm gonna refuse it."

Hanzo looked at Genji as if he had just spat the most hideous puddle of poison between them. The poison would erode the bond they had created during the years year by year.

"What? Refuse it?"

"Did I ever seem like the businessman kind? Brother, please."

"You could just be a bit... I dunno... Different. Are you even gonna take courses? Statistics? Accounting?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"How do you expect to keep this a secret?"

"It's not like Dad looks a lot after us, is it? You can come home drunk in the middle of the night and he doesn't say jack shit about it!" Genji blew a strand of hair from his face and turned back to packing, now crumpling every piece of clothing much more as he went on.

"Right, because it's  _me_ whose bullshit he pretends he doesn't see, right?" Hanzo said. He snapped back with full force.

Action, reaction. Stimulus, response. The brothers had never given in to one another much. They had a reactionary stance towards one another, a need to respond to whatever the other one did or said. Genji threw a shirt from his hands and walked closer to Hanzo.

"Yeah. He really does. He really does purposefully ignore a lot of our bullshit, doesn't he? If you listened to me you would have heard that my point wasn't that he lets things slip just in your case, but that he does in both of our cases. How's that okay?"

Genji took a deep breath when he saw that Hanzo was about to retort. They both saw the other one was about to talk, so on the same second, they both went silent. And instead of talking, instead of either of them slinging another sharp sentence, they both shut their mouths. They stared at one another, realizing that yet another conversation between them was going nowhere. They realized, yet again, that anything relating to serious things in adulthood would result in nothing but arguments. When was the last time they had enjoyed one another's company sincerely, without conflict, without friction?

They both had expected support where they had found none. They both wondered if they had misunderstood one another. They both wondered if the other one thought of a misunderstanding.

"Good night, Hanzo," Genji huffed. "Close the door on your way out."

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Three minutes to midnight, Mondatta emerged from the work shop without coughs or any extra loud whirring. The door opened, and Mondatta held his robes in his hands, instead of having them on himself. His entire self was visible to Genji, whom he had not expected. He pulled his arms and robes more against himself and Genji, all of a sudden, felt terribly embarrassed.

"Genji?" Mondatta said. He had not expected any other company than trained omnimedics and his brother, who had seen him without robes before. Zenyatta hovered to him when the door to the work shop closed, and took a hold of the robes.

"He has covered the expenses of your repairs, brother," Zenyatta said. "Please, let us get you dressed."

Genji looked away and listened to the rustling of the thick, dirty robes, looked outside from the dim window. A yawn forced its way through his mouth and he bit his lip. His tired mind sank him deeper into his thoughts. His eyes were red and puffy, but his cheeks had already dried. A weight had been lifted off of his heart, and when he listened to Zenyatta fussing around his now healthy brother, Genji could let a smile creep on his cheeks.

Everything  _could_ be okay. _Everything_ could be okay, after all, and maybe the next meeting with Zenyatta would not be interrupted so rudely. He listened carefully to the sounds of the robes, and when they ended, he glanced over his shoulder. He fiddled with the fabric inside of his pockets nervously.

Mondatta's close proximity nearly startled him, and the surprise came out as a wider smile on Genji's lips. Mondatta looked, while not good as new, healthy and standing, on his own two feet. His forehead lights shone with a steady blue.

"Genji," said Mondatta. "How can I ever repay your kindness?"

"No need to," said Genji. "You already have, tenfold."

He glanced behind Mondatta, at the hovering Zenyatta who placed a hand on Mondatta's arm. Mondatta looked at his brother, and the movement showed that he was nothing short of perplexed by the answer.

"Brother? Is there something I ought to know? Young Genji's gaze seems to hold a meaning unfamiliar to me."

"All in good time," said Zenyatta. "The most important thing now is that you are fine. How do you feel?"

"I feel lighter," Mondatta said. "I have been foolish to-"

"Hey," said the shop's receptionist and yawned. He nodded towards the door. "Take it outside."

Genji wanted to snap at the owner, but instead, he followed the lead of the Omnic brothers. He patted Zenyatta's shoulder as they exited the building. The street on which the shop was was a deserted one at that hour, and Genji dug out his phone. He didn't pay his own credit card bill. Why would he not try to help the brothers some more?

Mondatta continued his sentence as the three listened to the hum of the street. The first few words were said with the exact same emphases as during the first attempt - like from a recording. Genji took notice of it. He remembered that it was a normal thing about them. An integral part of their behaviour, of both brothers.

"I have been foolish to save money on the expense of my health."

"It is true," Zenyatta said. He gestured in Genji's direction, took notice of Genji typing a taxi number on the screen.

"We have saved money that way, for Genji here was kind enough to pay for your repairs."

"You two were together at the time of this incident?" asked Mondatta. Genji had to lift his gaze from the phone. A blush crept on his already red cheeks, red from crying.

"Yeah, we were just leaving a movie," Genji said.

"Thank you for keeping company for Zenyatta." Mondatta nodded with his head. "You truly are a good person."

"A friend, first and foremost," said Zenyatta. He wished, secretly from them all, perhaps also from himself, that it would be something more. Genji had proven himself to be a good person. Zenyatta had originally suspected that, even since the very first phone call. What Mondatta had called naivete had proven out to be a hunch in the right, an intuition with a correct direction.

"I want to thank you, Genji."

"It's nothing," Genji said. "Really. You have done so much for me already. I'll get you guys home and go home after that myself, I'm really tired."

"If it is your wish, then we shall do so. I hope you can find a taxi that caters for the likes of us."

"Oh, he knows to say it on the phone already," Zenyatta said and waved a hand in the air. After everything, a certain carefree tone had appeared in his voice. Like a weight had been lifted off of him. Genji took a liking to this kind of a Zenyatta, and could not imagine ever prank calling him again. How could Zenyatta's confusion have ever satisfied Genji, when his happiness was this pleasant?

In the taxi, Genji sat on the front seat, and the driver was the same one who had driven them to the shop. Zenyatta gave their home address and strapped himself and the still slightly dizzy Mondatta in. Genji took a deep breath when the car rolled from the parking space to the road, taking the direction of Zenyatta and Mondatta's home. The trip took them a good half an hour, the city was so huge. Genji let himself sink in his thoughts again as the city lights flew past like a vast ocean of luminescence.

They did not engage in any small talk. Zenyatta had a good view of Genji from where he sat, right behind the driver. Mondatta was focused on the views outside. Zenyatta, while he wanted to chat with Mondatta and even chastise him for having been too self-sacrificing, his cameras focused on the details of Genji, of the side profile he could have a long lingering look at. He zoomed just enough to tell the locations of a few acne scars, and that he had a piercing in his ear in which he wore no jewellery. Zenyatta determined where Genji would have smile wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and where worry wrinkles on his forehead would grow. For all the worries Genji Shimada carried, he would have creases on his fair face. It would not diminish his handsomeness in any degree, thought Zenyatta.

Genji dozed off on the front seat, and Zenyatta found it endearing. He hoped that Genji would sleep well that night. He hoped that Genji would not have any early morning engagements, because those could be foiled by this accidental escapade they had embarked on together. Zenyatta crossed his fingers and let himself lean back for the rest of the trip, his eyes all the time keenly on Genji.

The car stopped on the inner yard of the house where Mondatta and Zenyatta lived. A weight settled in Genji's stomach when he looked outside, at the only window from which lights shone.

"Is that your flat?" he asked quietly as he handed the credit card to the driver.

"Did you leave the lights on?" Mondatta asked. It was not like they even needed lights necessarily. Zenyatta and Mondatta got out of the car and Zenyatta, before even thanking the driver, looked at the window he knew to be theirs. The light inside was not their ceiling lamp. It moved.

Genji thanked the driver and got out of the car, and as the taxi driver waved his goodbyes to the three clients who did not even have the focus to wave back, the light was turned off. Genji frowned.

"That's a flashlight," Genji said.

Zenyatta remembered the feeling of having been followed. It manifested itself within him, now, as nothing cryptic, but rather as purely as dread. As a premonition. The Iris vibrated around them, telling Zenyatta that they all had fear in their hearts, as something newborn in the moment. The feeling of being watched was not with Zenyatta now. Instead, the feeling was right before his cameras, there, in their apartment, in their HOME.

Dumbfounded by surprise, the Omnic brothers did not move before Genji took a step forward.

"We need to investi-"

Eager footsteps echoed in the staircase and a person dressed all in black opened the door. Genji recognized the face. He had nearly beaten up the person when getting Mondatta's pocket change back. They had a partner, and they both held fabric bags.

"Hey!" Genji yelled and lunged forward. The two ran to the same direction. Genji, without thinking, bolted after them. Zenyatta looked after him, but as panic gripped his insides, he let Genji go.

"Where is he-" Mondatta said.

"Let him," Zenyatta answered and placed his hand on Mondatta's arm. "I have a feeling he knows what he's doing."

Iris told him that this had to happen. That Genji had to run after them.

Genji kept his eyes tightly on the two and despite them wearing nothing but black, he saw their moving figures in the street lights. His heart pumped adrenaline in his veins and made his muscles ready for all the jumps and leaps he had to do when the unknown duo ran away from him.

He did not know what it was that made him run after them exactly. What he  _did_  know was that they had been in Zenyatta's apartment. They could not be up to any good. They had already stolen stuff from Zenyatta and Mondatta before - or tried, and their plans had been ruined by the presence of Genji.

Genji's legs burned from the sudden spurt and tears pushed into his tired eyes. This day had been long. This day had been way too long and he didn't know how much longer he could go on, but the thought of Zenyatta kept him chasing. One of them held a fabric bag and they would have looked hilariously stereotypical when it came to thieves, but the situation held nothing funny in its grasp. Genji grit his teeth and turned around the corner with the two, but then saw them split in two directions. Within half a second, Genji chose the direction of the one who held a bag in their hands. The one who he had dealt with before.

The chase took him to an alleyway between two blocks of flats, and they ran behind a long line of trash cans. The person in black ran behind it on the grass and Genji ran on the asphalt, and during the turn they had somehow managed to slow down. To buy time they pushed over a large can and it fell on Genji's way, but he saw it early enough and leaped right over it. The tip of his right foot touched the plastic container and he nearly tripped, but gained his balance and did not make any intention of slowing down. It _did_ , in any case, reduce his speed, and the person with the mysterious bag kept on running. They  _had_ done something. They had _taken_ something.

Fuelled by the annoyance caused by the tripping, Genji increased his speed and managed to catch up when the person took another turn. The turn was a wrong choice, as it was to a yard surrounded by a metal fence. They jumped to the fence and tried climbing it, but Genji jumped right against them and with the loud rattle of the fence tackled them to the asphalt.

His heart hit against his rib cage and it shook his bones to their cores. He fell on the asphalt on his knees and attempted to take a hold of the person's shirt, but they managed to struggle out of it and with the help of the fence get up. The impact with the asphalt had taken its toll on them, so Genji managed to get up as well and grab their arm.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Genji asked. "What did you take?"

"Get off me!"

"You tell me first!"

"I said get-" the person flung their fist around. Genji caught a glimpse of their eyes, remembered the fight in the alleyway weeks ago. The fist came to Genji's direction, but the tiredness he experienced kept him from reacting early enough.

"- the fuck off me!"

Knuckles without gloves struck against Genji's temple. He felt the impact all the way in his spine, down in his toes, and his entire head was left vibrating like a drum that had been struck with a thick stick. Genji's entire field of vision vibrated, his nerves vibrated, his head, his brain, his bones. The hand had hit his ear and the ringing he heard drowned out the steps that took the person running away from him. Genji stumbled against the fence and held his head in both of his hands. His vision blacked out for the briefest of seconds.

When he opened his eyes, blinked and saw everything as one instead of in doubles, he saw and heard no trace of the person he'd chased. He struck his bare fist against the fence.

Cold bit into Genji's skin eventually. He leaned to the fence to regain his balance and dug his hands into his pockets, fiddled with his phone, thought of calling... Who? Why did his mind urge him to call Hanzo, of all people? Why would Hanzo help him now?

"Ah, fucking hell."

He vaguely remembered where he had run from, so he was not totally lost. Pain throbbed in his head and he wanted to scream from the annoyance. He hoped that this had been nothing but an inconvenience. Maybe something to laugh at later. Even if right then he wanted to grind his teeth loudly in anger instead of laugh, maybe he and Zenyatta would spare a chuckle or two at the entire incident.

When he arrived to the building where Zenyatta and Mondatta held residence, the headache had not passed, and bad premonitions whispered in his mind. His steps slowed down. He saw two figures moving in the window - the two Omnic brothers. He gulped with his dry throat and rose the stairs outside, the ones in the staircase. The brothers had left their door open, no doubt for Genji. He entered the apartment quietly.

Mondatta noticed Genji first. He hurried to the young man and placed his hands on his shoulders. Hope sparked within Zenyatta.

"Did you catch them?"

Genji could not let out a word. Zenyatta saw that he carried nothing else than his own bag from before.

"He did not," Zenyatta answered.

"Why?" Genji asked and tried to steady his breathing. "What happened?"

He located Zenyatta hovering near the safe they had in the room. It was on the floor, on its side, busted wide open. The insides held no money, not a single bill - but an empty void.

"They took everything," Zenyatta said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Will try my best to not keep you waiting for so long for the next chapter! Though depression might kick my butt... We have three more chapters to go, and I have everything planned ahead. Hope you enjoyed this update, though it truly has pushed our friends to the "dark night of the soul"-part of this story, huh...
> 
> // **UPDATE 18.1.2018**  
>  I'm still working on this story! Next chapter should be coming out in the course of the next week or so. Thank you for your patience.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the burglary, Genji joins the Omnic brothers to go and file a report. After a useless visit to the police station, Zenyatta visits Genji. Zenyatta introspects. Genji gets an idea.

One shouldn't have felt so hopeless in front of the police, Genji thought. He could not say anything, for he was not family. He could only provide his account of the events, the general features he could remember of the thieves, and he could tell the police the earlier account of an attempt of theft in the city. Genji regretted skipping his gym routine for a moment, for all of that, for _nothing but that_. He did not feel he could help the Omnic brothers at all.

"I would've helped you about as much at the gym as I did here," Genji scoffed and nudged his behind back and forth on the hard stool he had been seated on while waiting for Mondatta to come back. Mondatta had insisted on issuing the rest of the report himself, and he had kindly asked for Zenyatta and Genji to wait for him after he had talked with the police. The very moment early morning had dawned, the three of them had walked to the police station.

"Your presence is appreciated," said Zenyatta. His fingertips he had placed together and an unnaturally calm air radiated from him as he hovered above the chair next to Genji's. This time, it did not annoy Genji. Genji had sacrificed a full night's sleep for these Omnics. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips and let out the deepest of sighs.

"They look like they don't really wanna help," Genji said. "The dude at the counter... And, and then the police lady. Nobody shows any sympathy."

He did understand why Mondatta and Zenyatta had not wanted to call the police - but had not expected this level of slowness, and unwillingness to help. If this was how the brothers had to deal with the ones who were supposed to secure peace in society and to serve the citizens, Genji would not have wanted to be in any contact with them whatsoever. His heart pounded in his chest with anxiety, and he found himself fiddling with his Lúcio bag.

"And they took so much money." Genji whispered his words and glanced at Zenyatta carefully.

"Do you have insurance in case shit like this happens?" Genji knew  _he_ did, his father had gotten him one. Not that Genji knew much about his contract.

"We do not have that," Zenyatta said and shook his head. "Usually only working Omnics get injured, if they work in people's homes. And then the money goes to the humans who they work for, of course." Having insurances was a luxury Omnics could not afford unless they were employed by the  _créme de la créme_ of the society.

"So no insurance for your own homes?"

"Only if other humans also inhabit the home." And Zenyatta, he worked for a corporation that did not insure its Omnic workers. Even the human workers were  _lucky_  there  _if_ they got fair treatment.

"Are you fit to work?" Genji asked. Zenyatta's shoulders rose nearly to the corners of his jaw in surprise.

"Here I thought I was the clairvoyant. I was just thinking about my shift this evening."

"You told me you're _not_ a clairvoyant," Genji said with a small smirk on his lips. "A psychic, maybe."

Zenyatta let himself laugh together with Genji for a moment. Then, the gravity of the situation brushed off the laughter like a layer of fresh dust.

"I must admit that work as of this moment feels futile," Zenyatta replied.

"You saved all that money from that job," Genji said, more to make things clear to himself. "It's incredible."

"But it is past now," Zenyatta said. "I do not believe the money will be retrieved."

"Why? I thought you if anybody believes in hope."

"There is hope in dark places, Genji, but there is also stubborn inability to face the facts of a situation. One must not put those two together. Inability to face facts has a tendency of pushing us deeper into a forest we have been lost in."

Zenyatta looked away from Genji, right in front of himself, at the door from behind which Mondatta might soon emerge. The Iris embraced him, and he hoped he could have pushed the golden arms forward, to heal his own emotional scars and hold on to Genji's hand, to heal him too. But this situation could not be fixed with hope alone, not with belief or emotion.

This was a question of hard cash. It hurt Zenyatta deeply to admit it to himself. And when he briefly glanced at Genji's tired face, a regret of a certain kind entered his system.

"Have I spoken too bluntly?" Zenyatta asked with audible concern.

"I just never saw you so hopeless," Genji whispered.

"Did I say I am hopeless?" Zenyatta said. "I am not. I am momentarily saddened by our current state of affairs, yes. But hopeless?"

Zenyatta shook his head. "Hope is a fickle thing, but it stays with the smallest urging."

"What urges it?" Genji asked.

"Beautiful things. Strong things. People. Love." Zenyatta leaned closer to Genji. "You keep mine close by staying here with me. That is why you being at the gym now would not have the same effect as you being here with me."

"H-huh..." Genji blinked rapidly and dared not face Zenyatta head-on.

"Sometimes staying is the wisest, best thing you can do, you see. From time to time, we have to let ourselves  _not_ go when it seems that we have been urged to stay."

"Hmm..."

"Even if we feel like we can do nothing," Zenyatta said. When he talked, he felt like he was explaining himself something, a feeling that he had not been able to pinpoint earlier in life. That feeling had finally surfaced. Perhaps it was the Iris talking through him, explaining it. A knot within started to unravel, now that he looked at Genji. And while the shock of being a victim of a heinous burglary still shook his circuits, he found comfort in the inner revelation he had. But for now, he kept it secret. For now, he was satisfied with staring at Genji, taking in all the comfort he could find from the pale face and the worry in his eyes. The genuine care, the selfless protectiveness that he saw.

"I feel like I should do something," Genji said.

"We all do."

"But, like, you _do_ things," Genji said. He leaned his elbows on his knees and started ripping the skin from around his fingernails. Strands of hair obscured the shape of his face from Zenyatta's view. The motion of the pitch black hair was slow, the hair was clean but so dry that it moved lightly like feathers.

"I do. What things?"

"Like, you try to help people at least." Genji felt the weight in his stomach turning around, twisting around his guts.

"I thought you thought I was a scam."

"I know you're not," Genji said quietly. "What if... What if I am the scam here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have scammed you more than you have scammed me. Yeah, the TV station grabs money in your name and uses you for their benefit, but, I feel you at least try to really help people. Even thought you don't have to."

Genji knew not where the words bubbled from. Whatever the source was, it had force and panache he had never felt while talking before.

"You are no scam, Genji."

"I feel I am. I... Ugh. See, my dad doesn't know what I study. I find it hard to even study what I want to do, and I spend my time prank calling a pair of TV psychics just to get a laugh or two."

Genji huffed in frustration and continued before Zenyatta could respond. "If that's not a scam, I don't know what is."

"Do you feel like you should pay back for what you did?" Zenyatta asked. "Do you feel like you should make up for your, what did you call them, prank calls?"

"Yeah," Genji laughed dryly. "Yeah, I totally do. And I don't usually care that much, I mean, I don't prank call others, but I used to not really..."

His voice disappeared, and he could not grab a hold of it to return it back to its place. Had he ever been this raw with Zenyatta? He pinned it on the exhaustion.

"God, whenever you're in trouble, I come to you to talk about my petty feelings," Genji said and tried to fetch some humour to his whisper.

"I understand, Genji. I feel it is but a manifestation of your empathy."

"Or my bratty selfishness."

"Perhaps that too," Zenyatta admitted. "But if so, there most definitely is empathy in the mix. Others' sorrow brings yours to the surface. And it is only natural for you to want to share it. Perhaps, to validate mine. Perhaps, to seek validation to yours."

"Why are you so nice to me?" Genji asked. He lifted his gaze, and Zenyatta saw Genji at his truest self.

"Do you feel you do not deserve it?"

"Especially not at this moment."

"Niceness is not something one can deserve. Otherwise, we would be overloaded with constant calculations about others' behaviour at all times."

"A fair point," Genji softly scoffed.

"In any case," Zenyatta said and waved his hand in the air. "I am happy you are here with me. The robbery has devastated me and my brother to the core."

"That was all the money you had."

"It was all the savings we had, yes. I do not quite know how to go on from here on out, but I am sure we will figure out a way."

"Are you really sure?" Genji asked. He did not quite want to sound as hopeless as the words had come out sounding, but there was no taking them back.

"I am. This is not the worst situation we have been in, you see."

"No?"

"We have been outside, walked in gruelling weather, tried to protect our delicate insides from water and snow. We have watched our siblings leave for expeditions to find a place of worship for us as the Iris has instructed us to. We have been here since then, promised that we would come to them to help them settle."

Zenyatta laid his hands on his lap. Genji noticed how he began to fiddle with his fingertips like a human would have. Genji ground his teeth and reached for the hand, then encouraged himself and took a hold of the cool metal fingers, wrapped his own around them.

Genji knew he could not fathom the depth of Zenyatta's concern just then. He knew he had no ways of getting beneath the surface of his worry and his pain. But slowly, he accepted what Zenyatta had said, about just being there.

"I'm here for you now," Genji said. "That's what's different, right? From those times."

"Indeed. Just talking with you seems to have a calming effect on me, now that you no longer hide behind a pseudonym of any kind."

"Yeah. You're talking with Genji, and not..."

"...Gengo, or G, or..."

"Yeah, yeah, any of those," said Genji with a flush of embarrassment climbing up his cheeks. Even from the motionless face plate of the robot Zenyatta he could read amusement, which embarrassed him further - but somehow, in the friendly manner. Genji squeezed Zenyatta's hand gently.

"Everything will be alright," Genji said and looked into the eye slits of Zenyatta. He could see the cameras move a bit, reflect the light of the room from their lenses.

"You think so?" Zenyatta asked.

"I do."

"You have trodden this Earth longer than I have," said Zenyatta. "Perhaps it makes sense to believe you."

"It does. Because..." Genji chuckled. "...why would I ever lie to you?"

Mondatta's slumped figure appeared from the office, and a lady in a uniform escorted him out. Mondatta thanked her kindly and spoke nothing as he walked to the two waiting for him. He placed his fingertips together and a metallic sigh escaped his system. Zenyatta rose from the chair, let go of Genji's hand. And Genji, he at first tightened his hold of the Omnic's fingers, but then let go, the very moment he realized he was holding Zenyatta back. An odd feeling, it was, the need to have Zenyatta not go.

"Well?" Zenyatta asked. Mondatta placed his hands on Zenyatta's shoulders and looked him in the eyes, and to Genji it seemed like they shared words he could not quite hear. They had connection Genji could not fathom, a wireless way of communicating. And was it even Genji's business to understand it? Perhaps not. He felt like he violated their privacy by merely looking at them, so he lowered his gaze and pretended to fiddle with his phone.

There was a message from Hanzo. _I'll call you later & expect you to pick up_. Genji rolled his eyes.

"They could not help us," Mondatta said.

"I thought so."

"I think we must make haste and return to fix our home to the best condition it can be." Mondatta turned to Genji, clearly not minding his presence. "I appreciate you being here, Genji. Keeping my brother company."

"Oh, no problem at all."

"Are you not tired?" Mondatta asked. "Should you get home and rest?"

"No, I... I want to help you."

"Maybe I shall escort Genji home and join you later," Zenyatta said. Genji lifted his eyebrows in surprise, and closed his phone's screen.

"Uhh." He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. A yawn forced its way through his throat, and he covered his mouth with his hand. A soft giggle emerged from Zenyatta.

"Your eyes get watery when you yawn. I can see you are tired."

"I don't want to inconvenience..."

"Have we not inconvenienced you today already?" Mondatta said. "Do go, Zenyatta. Make sure he gets home safe. Help him the way he has helped us, if you must. Make sure you get to your shift in time."

"That I shall do." Zenyatta crossed his fingers and tilted his head curiously.

"Now, where do you live?"

 

* * *

 

Genji slid the key in the lock and opened the door. He gestured for Zenyatta to enter first, and followed him into the dark apartment. He walked to the living area after taking off his shoes and opened the curtains a bit, to reveal the comfortable mess he lived in. Zenyatta, burdened by worry, got something he had been quite curious about for a while to think about: Genji's home. The home of his newly found friend. Genji had not crammed his home full of trash, no, but it told Zenyatta a story of a young man with a busy life and a busy mind.

"Sorry about the mess."

"Oh, do not be," Zenyatta said. "I can make do all kinds of environments."

"Hanzo likes his place clean," Genji said and let out a loud yawn that was close to startling the Omnic. Zenyatta hovered close to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, looked into his eyes sympathetically. Genji shivered, discreetly, under the touch.

"My friend, please do sleep. You have barely closed your eyes since yesterday. Your brain has not had the time to process everything that has happened."

"So I should leave you unguarded in my home?" Genji chuckled.

"They say we Omnics are good guests. We do not shed, we do not produce dust, and I do not even have pockets to hide any stolen loot in."

Genji snorted, too lazy to suppress the loud noise, and then rolled his shoulders. "I guess I could close my eyes for a bit."

"I shall wait for you to wake up."

"You don't have to."

"Do you wish for me to go?" Zenyatta asked. Genji's lips parted, then closed again when he thought of an answer that would not sound too much like what it was.

"No."

 _Lonely_. He continued:

"I won't take too long."

"Rest for as long as you must."

A few steps behind Genji, Zenyatta followed him to the door of the bedroom and watched the young man tuck himself underneath a thin duvet in a room with pulled curtains. And before he could count to ten, Genji was dead asleep, breathing heavily, the duvet over him rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Again, before Genji fell asleep, he could have sworn he saw a golden glow from Zenyatta's direction. But his brain shut down to the state of sleep before he could even form the question about it in his mind.

The answer to that question spun in Zenyatta's circuits in top speeds, generating other questions and inquiries one after another, all about Genji and the need to be with him. The golden hands disappeared after one of them reached to touch Genji's head, remove a strand of pitch black hair from his cheek, and then Zenyatta went back to the living room where sun started to shine as the clock came closer to midday. As light increased, so did Zenyatta's ability to scan the room with his gaze. He took in loads of information about what he saw, and his curiosity nearly drove him to go through papers and notebooks. But he held it in. He would not violate the man who had helped him so much.

Homes on their own told endless tales about their inhabitants, even without the resident present. Genji enjoyed the colours orange and green above all, but green was not present in the form of greenery. It was present in a few wall cloths and paintings with imagery of dragons on them. Some type of a sword Zenyatta had never seen before had been mounted on the wall in the living area above the small work station Genji had. However, his laptop - most likely his main tool for coursework - was not on the desk, but on the coffee table in front of the sofa that could seat three people. In the corner of a room on top of a small shelf was a television screen. Notebooks, cables, books, and soft drink cans had taken over a lot of the space.

Zenyatta let himself float towards the floor in front of the window, where rays of sunshine caressed his dusty metallic parts. The hem of his robe fell on the floor underneath him, and his orbs began circling around him, slowly like a calm ocean wave. His thumbs clicked faintly against his forefingers, and as the two circles on his hands were completed, his entire body became a part of his inner processing system. All his energy now aimed to boost his introspection.

While Zenyatta's feelings confused him, more so did the lack of a certain feeling. He was uncertain and nervous, yes, but he felt nothing more than mildly inconvenienced by the theft he and his brother had been a target of. The homesickness that had driven them to the arms of an abusive employer and Mondatta to the brink of being taken for parts did not burn, but mildly touched Zenyatta, perhaps in a way that could have been described as pleasantly warm, like a safely contained fireplace.

With a closer look Zenyatta found what it was that moved within him almost out of his reasoning reach. Hesitation. Hesitation to go. Had it always been there? He dug in deeper into the feeling with no fear in his system. The orbs' movement became slower as they jumped up and down every now and then, projecting Omnicode symbols above them here and there, symbols from sacred texts of the Shambali. Texts that were now in Nepal, with the others, with his friends and comrades who had left them behind in favour of an early departure. They had left with the expectation that the great speaker Mondatta and his brother with healing powers and great charisma, Zenyatta, would join them and their efforts.

But the very thought of leaving had a flavour of bitterness in it. Something like biting into a whole pepper in one's food; not terrible, but it could put one off of one's appetite. And as to metaphors that were relevant to an Omnic, the thought was as unpleasant as cold weather. Bearable, but made some things nastier to focus on.

Time went past sluggishly, and even from the other room Zenyatta heard a faint snoring. It brought a flash of fondness into him, and it mixed the feelings about departing from the city even more. What if - and just, what if - he was not meant to go at all? What if he was meant to help others - what if all this, the suffering in the hands of Max and the ungrateful work on the city streets had a meaning? What if he was meant to help human beings here instead of developing dogmatic teachings there?

Everything he had preached on air had been dogmatic in some ways. Tarot readings, the zodiacs, reading from tea leaves, they all had rules. And yet, both he and Mondatta held them in less value than their own belief in the Iris. Why would their own dogmas be any more valuable, then, than these? What if Zenyatta was meant to connect with the Iris - and talk with people instead of downright teaching them?

Zenyatta lifted his chin and directed the gaze of his cameras outside, to a few rays of the sun that revealed floating dust particles in the room. Together with Genji's calm, heavy breathing, they created an atmosphere Zenyatta had barely ever been surrounded by before. Minutes ticked by as the loud clock showed that five, ten, fifteen minutes, then thirty had gone past.

At least now Zenyatta had more time to get to know this Genji Shimada, now that his departure had been severely delayed. The orbs moved back to Zenyatta's neck, and he rose from the floor, turned around, floated to the entrance of Genji's bedroom. The clock ticked, time went past again, and he stared at the man sleep for a good five minutes or so, his forehead lights glowing only faintly. He wondered why the sight filled him with such warm fondness.

Just the tiniest bit of sunlight had slipped through the curtains as the sun had risen more and more above the horizon. Only in half an hour a single sunbeam had found its way across Genji's bed, and it crossed him diagonally as if keeping him in place. Zenyatta tilted his head and counted a few of Genji's calm, steady breaths. He had not moved from his position in the thirty minutes that had passed, but stayed in one place, resting calmly, perhaps already dreaming. Black strands of hair peeked from underneath the blanket. The strand curled and moved on the pillow like a coursing river, ending in a few split hairs that fell off of the pillow's surface. Zenyatta found it interesting, and hovered closer to the edge of the small double bed - or large single bed, he could not quite tell.

Genji's sheets were dark in colour and had no patterns on them. Something, however, told Zenyatta that somewhere in his closets - he gave them a short look as they covered the wall where the door was, giving the door just enough space to open - he had sheets with playful, maybe even childish patterns on them. These sheets were cotton, he could tell, and when he touched the blanket, he could determine it as soft.

Soft, also, was Genji's cheek, even if covered in dark, patchy stubble here and there. Long eyelashes and a bushy brow gave his face strong features that drew Zenyatta in. He could have admitted even out loud that Genji was an aesthetically pleasing human to him, easy and pleasant to look at. When he slept, he had a compelling innocence to him. Zenyatta let himself hover right above a free space on the bed, and reached for the strand of hair that had escaped Genji's ponytail. He took a hold of it, and took it to the sunbeam, inspected the shining black. He moved the strand between his delicate fingers and spun it around his forefinger, then let it unravel.

Genji groaned in his sleep. His brow furrowed and he brought a hand to his face, rubbed his eyes and smacked his lips. He blinked rapidly and looked lost for some brief seconds.

"I am here, Genji," said Zenyatta.

"Huh?"

"We are in your home."

"Wait, what about Mondatta?" said Genji in a voice that revealed with its lack of articulation that he was still partially asleep. Zenyatta let go of the strand of hair and brought his hand on Genji's head. He ruffled his hair, made Genji's eyes close with the caressing motion. Causing pleasure, even the smallest one, sent metaphorical sparks in his system. However metaphorical they were, however, they were very real to him.

"Do not worry, my friend. He is fine."

"Mmmh, okay then." Genji let his head drop on the pillow and his eyelids cover his dark eyes. In his sleep he shifted closer to Zenyatta, so close, in fact, that the tip of his nose touched the robe that covered Zenyatta's legs. The Omnic straightened his legs and sat - still hovering - in a more relaxed position with his feet almost touching the floor next to the bed. Genji noted the growing distance and shifted even closer.

Zenyatta had warmth to him that was only in certain parts of his body. Genji pressed his forehead against the leg and felt only a hard metallic thigh through it, but the fabric covering it was somewhat warm, softening the cold of the metal that did not touch anything warm, had not touched in a while. Zenyatta's battery and system whirred inside of his chest, behind the plate that covered his inner workings. The warmth from there did not reach his limbs, but Genji did not mind it.

And for a while, for a long while, they just let themselves be. Two entirely different beings whose paths had converged let themselves be against one another. Genji did not reject Zenyatta's caress, but welcomed it through the haze of his sleep. Perhaps through sleep it was easier to let himself rest against somebody he had not known for very long - but somebody he wanted to know better. And, perhaps, for Zenyatta it was easier to allow himself ask for such a permission with physical movements - permission to touch and be close. Zenyatta thought of it as unnatural how naturally it all occurred. Truly, it was like an _event_ , more than a _state_ of being.

"You're still here," Genji muttered, only barely able to open his mouth.

"Why would I not be? I said I would be."

"What have you been doing?"

"Meditating."

"On what?"

"What has happened."

"We will figure out something," Genji whispered and nuzzled his nose against the robe fabric. It was a compulsion that came from deep within, a need to be close. He breathed in the scent of the robes. He sensed a distant hint of laundry detergent, perhaps food oil, some dust, anything an old robe could have had on it. Its soft surface had been damaged by bad washing practices, and it felt rough to the skin. Together with Zenyatta's fingertips, he felt the Omnic all around him. It spread something fond in his heart, and he knew he wanted to be even closer, but could not in the current situation.

Current _event_.

"Do not worry your head about it too much," said Zenyatta.

"Of course I worry."

"What do you mean of course?"

"I wanna go on another movie night with you," Genji said and let his eyes open. The dark colour of them got a glint to them from the sunshine outside as he looked up at Zenyatta's glowing forehead lights. They reflected from the dark irises as well, showed Zenyatta their amount and shape almost perfectly.

"You do?"

"I do. How can I, if we don't settle this ordeal, problem, this stuff now?" Genji said. A sleepy chuckle escaped his lips.

"You are quite right, my friend. I will admit I am quite pleased that you wish to repeat our movie night."

"We could make it a habit."

"Could we?" Zenyatta said. "I like the sound of that."

"Maybe it won't be interrupted any more like it was."

"Oh yes. Perhaps I will no longer reveal the knowledge I have acquired of you before a film."

"And maybe no one will call us any more because they've collaps-"

A Lúcio beat started blasting from Genji's bag. He grunted and apologized to Zenyatta, then reached for his bag from the bed and took out his phone. Hanzo's name flashed on the screen, and Genji groaned. Zenyatta read the name and let go of Genji's hair, placed his hands on his lap.

"Who is it?" he still asked, curious about Genji's reaction.

"Just Hanzo. I'll ignore it."

"I think you should get that," Zenyatta said solemnly. "Who knows, he might have something important to say."

What Genji had been saying before the phone call poured a stream of cold inside of him when he looked at the green receiver shape. Hanzo was supposed to call a bit later, wasn't he? Genji didn't remember...

"Hopefully no one ain't collapsed," he mumbled to reassure himself. Zenyatta knocked on the wooden end of the bed. Genji sat up on the bed and crossed his legs in a lotus position, and while scratching his messy-haired head, he placed the phone on his ear.

"Mornin', brother."

 _"Hey there,"_ Hanzo said. He didn't sound particularly bothered. Genji stopped a sigh of relief.

"What do you want?" Genji asked.

_"Okay, first of all you could learn to answer me a bit more kindly."_

"Yada yada. I'm a bit busy right now," Genji said while staring into Zenyatta's eyes. "What do you want?" he repeated.

_"I don't want anything. Father told me to call you while he's in a meeting. He wants to know if you need anything."_

"Need anything?" Genji asked.

_"He knows you've had some tough exams and he wants to reward you I guess."_

"I don't need rewar-"

Zenyatta turned his head, and moved just enough to have a beam of sunlight hit the finer parts of his head. They glistened like pieces of gold, a treasure Genji had handled just now. A treasure that could not be stolen by burglars, no matter how they tried. A treasure that could go away only on its own.

_"Well I guess I'll tell that to Father, then."_

"Wait, wait, wait," Genji said and placed his hand on Zenyatta's shoulder. "I do need something."

_"What is it?"_

"I can't tell you, I need to tell Father."

_"Then I recommend you come see him face to face for once. When did you last visit?"_

"Yeah yeah yeah, I will."

 _"You... Wait."_ Hanzo sounded as if Genji had just told him he was going to _fly_ there. _"You will?"_

"Yes."

_"He's gonna ask-"_

"Tell him I'm coming in a few days."

_"O-okay?"_

"And that I have a huge favour to ask," Genji said, nigh whispering.

_"How huge?"_

Genji's hand moved in a caressing motion on Zenyatta's robe. Zenyatta tilted his head, and it sent butterflies flying in Genji's stomach. But those butterflies had blades for wings, and he knew they would not fly for long in a pleasant manner if his plan was to succeed.

"Massive. Even for me... But it's something very, very important."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait. Life got in the way... BUT I'm pumped and ready to finish this story!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and Zenyatta travel to the Shimada estate. Before entering, they come to some realizations, and become closer - and more vulnerable - than especially Genji has ever been.

Genji buttoned up his shirt and left the two first buttons open. He straightened the hem over his green trousers and slid a dog tag necklace around his neck. The cologne he had sprayed lightly on his wrists had taken over the entrance hall of his apartment, but would do so only for a while. He had not sprayed  _that_ much of it on that he would still smell it when he was back from the Shimada estate.

He looked down at his feet in the full-body mirror and listened to the living area clock. He would have to leave soon. Father had said he would make dinner. Genji had said that he would be bringing a visitor. He had forgotten to mention that this particular visitor would not need food. How would he have said it anyway without it sounding too strange?

Genji sighed and let his shoulders relax. The beige shirt with wrapped sleeves was formal enough to make him look respectable, but the whole ensemble still was very _him_. He did not fancy cologne too much, but he put it on out of Father's influence. He combed his hair back to a ponytail that was not too high, but high enough to keep the long strands out of the way. This outfit, with the gift wrist watch and tidy details, was what Father wanted from him. Tidiness, cleanliness, order. And, with careful additions, a flavour of Genji himself.

Nit-pickiness about his looks came from home. The Shimada brothers had to always look presentable. Even if Genji was a rascal, he without an exception had clean nails and freshly washed hair and new clothes. Even while running around town, Genji would look like what he was - a rich kid trying to blend in. He hated thinking about those times when he had not understood something because it was a normal people thing, like not being able to go somewhere because you couldn't afford the bus fare.

It had been an entire week since the burglary, and Genji had not met with Zenyatta since. He had made sure that they were able to live in their apartment and helped them change their locks, but that had been all. For a few days, Genji'd had to focus on studies and finding out about the accounting class. He hated the sound of it, but he needed to have some cards for the negotiations. In order to get something, he had to have something to give - business was business. After all, he was about to negotiate with the biggest real estate owner of the city, and that was no small feat.

Who knew, perhaps he would have to negotiate with the up and coming vicious dragon Hanzo Shimada himself, or at least argue with him. The dragon that would soon spread his wings over the Shimada estates and guard them viciously could be up against him. Genji knew he had not quite learned to fly on his own yet, so he would be an easy target for his older brother. What soothed him was the trust he had in his Father. Sojiro Shimada would not only listen to Hanzo.

He walked down the street to the bus stop and had not put his ear phones on this time. The crisp autumn noon pinched his cheeks. First snow would fall any day. Genji let go of his urge to run around and try to flow his way to his and Zenyatta's rendez-vous. Bus would be faster, however good Genji's parkour skills were.

When he finally reunited with Zenyatta, seeing him made Genji's heart jump in his throat. Zenyatta had cleaned his robes, and they now shone in the autumn's noon sun beautifully. His orbs were seated neatly against his neck, and he floated closer to Genji who had waited for him on the bus stop for a while. The colour of his robes was a vibrant silver, and one fabric was a more gold-hued yellow that disappeared between the silver ones. Genji's lips parted and he became aware of his own scale-patterned trousers and the piercings on his face. He felt he looked classless compared to the Omnic, while in reality it was the other way round. Omnics were considered to have no class, while Genji was the _créme de la créme_ of society.

"Good morning, my friend," Zenyatta said when in speaking distance and placed his hand on Genji's shoulder. "You seem nervous."

"I am."

"I do not know what you are planning," Zenyatta said. He kept his hand on the shoulder and caressed Genji's arm with his thumb. The clicking of his joints against one another soothed the man. "However, I am certain that we shall succeed."

"I'm going to have to talk with Hanzo and my Father."

"Do not demonize them before you have talked with them."

Genji rolled his eyes despite himself. "I've talked with them before."

"Every discussion with a person is different," said Zenyatta. "I should know, for I have negotiated paychecks with Max a few times myself."

"Oh, that must have gone well," Genji laughed.

"Only as well as you can imagine," Zenyatta said. "I believe we are taking a taxi?"

Genji stuck his hands in his pockets and fiddled with his key chain. He gave Zenyatta a long, sad gaze, and only barely heard what the Omnic had asked with his voice that echoed within his system. Genji had found that he had missed the voice during the week, when he had not dared to even open his television during the broadcasting hours of their program.

"Genji?"

"Yeah," Genji said and shook his head as if to shake off the thoughts that pushed his focus away from the situation. "Yeah, we're taking a taxi."

"Have you called it?"

"No."

"Maybe you should."

 

* * *

 

The taxi traversed forward on the street so familiar to Genji, and every meter the tires rolled formed another memory in Genji's mind. He could almost see himself running on the pavement with the neighbour's kids or his cousins or with Hanzo or whoever. Through the trees now bare from leaves he saw the silhouette of his childhood home in the distance. The sheer extravagance and size of it left him feeling guilty for feeling guilty. He felt like a spoiled little kid once again.

He glanced over at Zenyatta who he had chosen to sit next to instead of the front seat. Zenyatta had chosen the best robes he had, and even those had broken seams and some rogue strings that had snapped here and there. Genji became aware of the cleanliness of his own clothes, the price he had paid for them, and he ground his teeth painfully.

Zenyatta heard the grinding sound, for he had focused his senses mainly on Genji. He reached out with his hand to take a hold of Genji's, to soothe him. Genji tensed up at the touch, but relaxed again, and tried his best to not shy away from an eye contact.

"We're soon there," Genji said, both as an update and as an explanation for his tension.

"How long has it been since your last visit?" Zenyatta asked.

"Uh... Wow. I don't know, I was here for Christmas I suppose."

"That is quite a while, then." Zenyatta nodded and caressed the back of Genji's thumb with his own. The metal of his hands adapted to Genji's body temperature quickly, even though Genji's hands and especially fingertips were as cold as icicles. His toes, too, had lost almost all body warmth. He doubted he could make himself walk up the stairs of his home to the entrance hall, and especially towards the office where he and his father mostly had their talks.

"Sounds kinda ungrateful, doesn't it?"

"It does. But I do not believe you _are_ ungrateful. You are an insightful one, exceptionally so, even. And secretive, I will give you that." Zenyatta shrugged. "I still do not know what you are planning."

Zenyatta tried to gauge out the meaning of this visit from Genji with the softest tone he had. Genji still refused to tell him. It left Zenyatta with a sense of confusion, and when they finally stepped out of the car after a soft, encouraging discussion, he could not shake it. Especially not while laying the gaze of his cameras on the front of the house.

The Omnic psychic knew not much about house prices or real estate, but he could tell that this house was expensive. It was a modern house with lots of angles and very few curves. The windows were tall, and Zenyatta could see inside an entrance hall and a dining room, as well as broad stairs, only from outside. He had been to many kinds of houses, but he found it hard to believe that this one had ever been a real home. But it was, and his friend Genji Shimada had many a precious childhood memory linked to this very house.

Zenyatta had no childhood home. He knew nostalgia, but he knew that he could never truly understand the childhood melancholy a human being could have. Memories that faded, some memories that are not even real, memories that conflict those of your family members. All of those linked to a building, a shelter. And no matter how big or small the house or apartment was, it was always a home. What would have been a home to him would maybe not have been a home for Genji. Or even something that resembled a home.

"You'll see. Fuck, I really don't wanna be here." Genji's whisper echoed of pain and discomfort as he even took half a step back when the taxi drove away from behind them. They both saw movement from inside, but could not quite distinguish any figures. Genji knew who were inside, but didn't want to know. He reminisced on the last time he had seen Hanzo, for instance, and shivered.

"Try to think that it is your home, no matter what."

"That's the problem I'm wrestling with. I wish I had a different home than this."

And he wished that he had come here earlier for other business than to ask for something. He did not want to be the needy kid with nothing but requests and never anything to give. And when he looked at Zenyatta, who had also polished his face plate for this occasion, he felt pre-emptively ashamed of the scolding he most likely had coming. Either from Hanzo or from Father, though from Father it would be far more humiliating. He had a voice and a demeanor that, while he loved Genji very much, made Genji feel hugely inferior to him.

But he was ready to do it for Zenyatta. He took a step forward and had Zenyatta follow him closely.

"Genji... Wait."

A warm metallic hand took a hold of his shoulder, and he turned around to face the blue forehead lights. Zenyatta placed both his hands on Genji's shoulders.

"Remember what I told you?" Zenyatta said. "Take a deep breath and draw your shoulders upward."

Genji was about to voice his objection. Once he realized what was going on, he gave a light laughter that released an unbelievable amount of tension.

"Inhale through the nose."

Genji did as Zenyatta advised, and closed his eyes. He inhaled the fresh air through his nostrils and drew his shoulders upwards, and he exhaled through his parted lips as he let his shoulders relax. He had unknowingly raised his shoulders all the way to his ears, and now that they were down, he felt relaxation spread everywhere in his body. It was a technique Zenyatta had taught him, and that in its simplicity was a relief in many situations.

"Good. Well done, Genji."

Genji opened his eyes slowly, and laid his eyes on the polished face plate of his Omnic friend. His heart fluttered now, upwards from the hole where it has sunken, with the force of Zenyatta's presence. It fluttered the same way the butterflies did in his abdomen. It was a comfortable feeling, something grounding instead of nerve-wrecking, and he gave Zenyatta a smile.

"Thanks."

"Do not thank me. I do not like seeing you so nervous."

"You're gonna see me more than nervous," Genji said and lifted his eyebrows.

"The first time I talked with you, the nervousness and sadness in your tone disturbed me. It lingered in your presence... It was and is something that I wish to see as little as possible."

Genji wanted to say that in a best case scenario, his wish would indeed be granted. In the best case scenario, Sojiro Shimada would hear his younger son's words and accept the request Genji had formed in his mind time and time again, in words he forgot after every sentence he planned. Instead of saying this, Genji Shimada smiled and patted Zenyatta's arm, caressed the metal up and down.

"Don't worry."

It was easy to say. But how could Zenyatta not have worried? He had heard the shaking of Genji's voice whenever he spoke of his family and the way he tried to avoid the topic without the faceless safety of only being on the phone. The golden arms, they felt overwhelmingly strong. The need to embrace Genji, it took over him. And without thinking any more about it, Zenyatta pulled Genji into a tight hug, inspiring a yelp from the young man. In front of Genji's childhood home, Zenyatta embraced the man who he had learned to care about more than he ever had guessed he could care for a human being.

Genji, in turn, was shaken by the hug, but not surprised by how much he had needed it. For a brief moment he stood still, but as his lips melted into a smile, as his lids lowered and as his face relaxed, he lifted his arms and pressed his palms on Zenyatta's back. He felt Zenyatta's shoulder blades move on top of other materials, the harsh metal not softened much by the tunic fabric.

"I _will_ worry," Zenyatta said. He knew not what was to happen, and neither did Genji, but Genji at least knew the starting point of the upcoming events. He had intentionally left Zenyatta in the dark, so he pressed the Omnic tighter against himself. He hugged him a little bit more and lowered his chin enough to press it against Zenyatta's shoulder. Zenyatta's legs pressed against Genji's hips. Genji shivered at the closeness, but did not cower. He _for once_ did not cower from something difficult but necessary. And he would not, in the future, not any more.

"There's nothing to worry about."

"As long as we care about a living being," Zenyatta said and pulled back just enough to look into Genji's dark eyes, "there will be reasons to worry."

Genji nodded. In a moment of uncontrolled fondness, Genji slipped his hands from the embrace and lifted them to touch what were Zenyatta's cheeks. A metallic gasp emerged from Zenyatta's voice synthesizer. Genji's smile froze when he looked at the face, the face that looked benign, the face that looked like it had a perpetual pout on the whatever looked like a mouth.

His heart fluttered. The butterflies once again sharpened their wings and attacked the walls of his stomach in a frenzied haste.

Genji did not want to let go. He did not want to let go of Zenyatta. Zenyatta saw how hard he ground his teeth, he saw Genji's shapely jaw clench in tension he knew not the source of. He tilted his head, pressed his face more against Genji's hand.

"And as long as we want happiness for another living being," Zenyatta said and pressed his hand on top of Genji's. He focused his cameras on the eyes that were as dark as night, eyes from which he could barely tell apart the iris and the pupils.

"Concern will always grow."

"I think I'd be worried of you too, to be honest," Genji said, but his voice faltered in the middle of his sentence. He had to blink away tears. They would have to go inside before he would change his mind. He had to be strong inside, outside, to help Zenyatta and to decrease his own worry. He had to be.

"Truly?"

"How could I not be worried for your well-being... You're the person, the Omnic, who helped me be strong enough to stand here now. Ready to go in." Genji's heart beat in his chest like a large drum, the vibrations of each beat going down his limbs. It reverberated all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes.

The uniqueness of each moment was realizing itself in his mind, the same way it had every time they had meditated together. The same way it had every time they had spent time trying to grasp the moment and count down the seconds, and only be in the moment, and let everything else slide past.

Every sensation in itself was precious, if it was tied to a moment with memories in it. Genji wanted to make memories, but more than that he wanted to live his life. To live without regrets. And he found that the Omnic in front of him, with his flickering forehead lights and his broad shoulders, his damaged body and beautiful clothes, was to thank for so much of that.

"We've known for so little time," Genji said and leaned forward, as he felt he could not bring out more than a whisper. Zenyatta sensed a great tenderness from him, similar to when he had lain in bed half-asleep and scooted closer, similar to when he had confessed to being the mystery caller.

"I feel so silly." Genji chuckled and looked down, but did not take his hands off of Zenyatta's face. A zap of information alerted Zenyatta of nervousness in his system as Genji was so close, as he could smell Genji's personal scent mixed with some kind of a perfume Zenyatta had never noticed him wear before. And he had to admit that all of that, with Genji's smart clothing, was very attractive.

The thrill of being in front of Genji's own front door, perhaps under a watchful electric eye of some kind, perhaps not, was all very electrifying to Zenyatta. Had he been able to, he would have had the most uncontrollable grin on his face.

"Why?" Zenyatta asked.

"Because..."

Genji took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax again. This was a day of revelations. This was a day of suggestions and questions, and a day when he was not to be afraid of answers. This was a day for grasping the moment - and he would start right then.

"... I kind of want to kiss you."

The silence that fell after these words, Genji knew not whether he wanted it to end or not. On one hand he hoped that Zenyatta would have malfunctioned and somehow not heard Genji's words, but a far larger part of him wanted Zenyatta to say something, maybe lean closer. Genji pressed his palms tighter against Zenyatta's face, as if holding his head still. When Zenyatta spoke, Genji noticed this, and relaxed his arms significantly.

"I cannot even kiss you back."

Genji laughed. It released some tension. "That's why it's silly."

Genji had maybe once or twice before had feelings of the romantic kind. One earth-shattering crush in middle school and a few relationships after that, those where teens hold hands and giggle and maybe have their first kiss.

"Genji... I am an Omnic."

"I know. And I only kiss people who pass the Turing test."

Zenyatta laughed, his voice as pleasant as a fresh summer breeze. It encouraged Genji.

"And usually even humans don't pass that one, let me tell you that."

"Then I think you should do it," Zenyatta said.

"I think so too."

So far, a lot of his life, Genji was all bark and no bite. He talked the talk but did not even know to what direction to walk the walk. This path he saw now could be closed off incredibly soon, and he had to step on it before it would be too late.

He leaned forward and heard his own wavering gasp. His lips ghosted over the face plate, the small slit that acted as a mouth. The tears that had appeared in his eyes multiplied and he had to close his eyes before his dry lips met the metal. His shoulders climbed all the way up to his ears, even when Zenyatta placed his hands on them.

Zenyatta pressed his face against Genji's. Zenyatta forgot about his own trials. Genji became aware of every trouble he had ever had, and sought comfort from the touch of the Omnic in front of him.

It felt right. It was one of those things that felt so right that ending it would have felt criminal. Genji moved his lips against the face plate as if kissing moving lips, and Zenyatta moaned ever so quietly. Genji didn't know if Zenyatta felt his lips, but his closeness must have been exciting, judging from how fully the robot shook at the contact.

Zenyatta tasted of what he looked like - metal, and a bit like dirt. But not in the nasty way, for it only made Genji's blood pump in his veins faster than earlier. Zenyatta tasted like something forbidden, something Genji's lips simultaneously did and did not belong in contact with. He wanted to go on, and on, and on. Take a taxi back home and take it to the bedroom, kiss Zenyatta until Genji would fall asleep in his arms. And not let him go.

Not let him go. Not ever let him go.

Genji had not expected to feel this way. And halfway through the kiss he partially regretted doing it. Would the feeling have passed, gone away, if he had just reigned it in? If he had just pushed Zenyatta away and had done what he felt he had to do with cold, clinical expressions of external empathy? Would that have hurt Zenyatta?

Zenyatta in turn thought about nothing but the kiss. He had never been touched that way. What he had that was close to it was when Mondatta pressed his forehead against Zenyatta's, when the centre lights met and they felt a connection no other creatures but Omnics could have had. It was a connection that made him deeply, truly love Mondatta - a connection that they'd had ever since he had been booted up. Zenyatta had never expected to have anything comparable to it with anybody else.

But now, upon contact with Genji, he felt it. It flowed like a river deep within them both, and the river found its connection, it flowed underneath the bridge the kiss created. Zenyatta had only seen kisses, cheek kisses in passing and tongue kisses on television, true lovers' kisses in films. They never were between humans and Omnics, usually only between a male human and a female human. Two beings who could kiss one another.

Zenyatta did not feel he was just the object of the kiss. He pressed closer. He held Genji's shoulders. Genji shivered underneath his touch as the fabric of his shirt wrinkled under the tightening grip. Blood fell from Genji's head and escaped to his lower body, packed between his legs and into what felt like a pool underneath his lungs. Physically it manifested that something that flowed between them.

The flow lasted until it grew too much to bear, and Genji had to pull back. He opened his eyes and looked shocked, like a poor little deer in sudden headlights. Just as quickly, however, his expression softened, and his thumb touched what could have been called Zenyatta's lower lip.

"We have to get inside."

"We do, Genji. I believe we are expected by now, and there is dinner for you. We have been outside for quite a while."

How long had the kiss been? Genji could have sworn it had gotten darker while his eyes had been closed. He looked up at the sky and shook his head, let his arms fall and he slid his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Let's go."

"Let us. Whatever happens, I am here to support you."

Zenyatta took a hold of Genji's hand as they walked to the door. Genji did not need to knock. He wiped the corner of his mouth and stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I am SO sorry about the long delay. This has been in my files written and unedited for literally months now. But now I got to editing it. I hope you enjoyed! This chapter was originally gonna be way longer, but I chopped it in two parts, which caused the chapter goal to grow to 16 instead of 15.
> 
> On another note, I'm one of the contributors of the vol. 2 of the Genyatta Zine! I'm very proud of what I produced, a fluff oneshot about 3k in length. More info about the zine here on [Tumblr](http://genyattazine.tumblr.com/faq)!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sojiro Shimada welcomes Genji, Zenyatta, and Hanzo to dinner. Around a pot of sukiyaki, the family and the Omnic have a fruitful discussion. Some of the topics include Zenyatta's life, Genji's education, and Genji's request.

The entrance hall of the Shimada house was as extravagant as Zenyatta had dared to expect. It had traditional imagery on the paintings on the walls, no doubt to show their Eastern ancestry. The ceiling had been built high, and every step on the marble floor echoed. The place was a mix of marble and stone and wood, and as much as it reminded Zenyatta of palaces, it felt like a home. It wasn't speckless, it wasn't sterile. A stairlift had been built next to the flight of stairs, and it had been left up on the second floor. Whoever needed it must have been upstairs.

While the steps they took echoed, the stairs right in front of the entrance had a carpet with plenty of wear-and-tear on its surface. Zenyatta wondered if Genji had run up and down the stairs when that same carpet had been there, when he had been a wee kid. He could also picture Genji messing around with the stairlift, much to the frustration of whoever used the lift for an actual purpose.

Up at the end of the stairs was a painting. Genji sighed deep when he saw it, and before Zenyatta could ask if someone was going to come and get them, Genji gestured with his head in a way that urged Zenyatta to follow him. Genji rose two steps at once and approached the painting with no hesitation. He always had to see it, whether he wanted it or not.

"I dunno how to feel about that painting," Genji mumbled before Zenyatta could have asked anything about it. It was about one and a half meters wide and one meter high, and it had been done with oil paint. Zenyatta tilted his head when they stood at the top of the stairs, and despite Genji taking a direction to the right, Zenyatta wanted to look at the painting. It had been framed in heavy black wood with silver details.

"Why so?" a voice asked. A door opened on the left. Both Zenyatta and Genji directed their attention to the sound, and Hanzo tried his best to smile at the guests. Genji's breath hitched in his throat.

"Two blue dragons," Genji said and gestured with his hand. "And _one_ green."

"It's a beautiful painting," Hanzo said. Zenyatta stayed behind Genji, but not hiding in his shadow. He wanted to give the brothers space - he of course knew right away that this was the brother. The brother who Genji claimed had killed Genji, or at least a part of him. And yet, Hanzo was a kind-looking man from what Zenyatta saw.

A hardened young man with early signs of aging on his face, for sure. He wore a business casual outfit, a blue blazer on top of a black shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. His long hair was tied in a ponytail, and one black strand rested on the side of his head, against his high cheekbone. Both he and Genji shared a similar hairline, and a keen look in their black eyes.

"You must be Hanzo," Zenyatta said. He wondered why the brothers both dressed so formally for a family meeting, but maybe it was some kind of a business people thing. Hanzo walked to Zenyatta and shook his hand politely.

"You've told your, hm, friend here about me?" Hanzo asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Genji asked. A frown appeared on Hanzo's face when he turned to fully face his shorter brother.

"What?"

" _Hm, friend_?"

"That's what he is, no? Your Omnic friend."

"Just  _a friend_  will do, thank you."

"I am an Omnic, so it is a fact he is saying," Zenyatta said. Genji sighed and waved his hand.

"Father wants to speak with us both, I guess," Hanzo said.

"Why?"

"I think he knows."

Genji's heart sank in his stomach. He turned to Hanzo and faced him with a wild look in his eyes. Zenyatta felt in the Iris how anger swelled within him.

"What? Knows what?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He nudged his head towards Zenyatta and stepped closer to Genji, as his volume went lower. His voice became a growl, truly befitting the dragon image. "Does the robot know?"

"Know what?" Zenyatta asked.

"What I study," Genji answered.

"Ah, I do. Education, or teacher studies." Zenyatta clasped his hands against his chest and let his pride show. "He will be a wonderful teacher."

"Mmmh, I'm sure about it," Hanzo said only out of politeness, to get back to Genji. "Listen, I'm not gonna argue with Father about this."

"Did you tell him?" Genji asked. Hanzo rolled his eyes and that made Genji poke his chest. It wrinkled the black shirt and made Hanzo yelp, so sharp was the contact.

"Hey!"

"Did you?"

"Calm down, Genji."

"Did you tell him?"

"I didn't," Hanzo said and took a deep breath. He clenched his teeth together and looked deep into Genji's eyes. His own eyes were like drills, trying to decipher the meaning of his brother's visit, but Genji did not give it in. Besides, it was too complex a thing to reveal only with a silent gaze. Simultaneously Genji tried to determine whether Hanzo lied or not.

"I can't trust you."

"Genji," Hanzo sighed and wrinkled his brow in worry.

"What?" Genji squinted his eyes and tried to stay tough. "It'll be a bit different to go in there if Father knows everything."

"Father just wants to have dinner with you, I wouldn't tell something like that. I just, I just have a feeling he might have figured it out himself. I dunno why. Can you imagine how awkward it would also be for me?"

"Assuming you wouldn't revel in my discomfort."

"I wouldn't," Hanzo said. "I never take pleasure from your pain."

Zenyatta sensed hurt from both of their silences. It echoed from the way they said nothing, it stung as sharply as a dull knife in the back did. Zenyatta let his orbs chime a few times, to redirect the brothers' attention somewhere else. This discussion would lead them nowhere.

"Young Hanzo," Zenyatta said. "We have been invited for dinner, I hear. Unfortunately, I will not be able to take part in the eating part."

"I see," Hanzo said. Genji was not sure if he was glad to have had his sermon interrupted. The thought, Genji found, was nowhere near as malicious as it would have been before.

"I suppose you figured that out," Zenyatta said. He expressed amusement in his tone of voice. "I hope it will not be a problem."

"No, no," Hanzo said and waved his hand in the air. "There's more for us, if nothing else."

"You eat like a horse," Genji chuckled. He could not hold the comment back. Hanzo looked at him and grinned in the smug way they shared. Zenyatta thought of them as mirror images of one another, even if like night and day in so many respects.

"I eat like a horse because I work like one."

"Neighing and shitting all day?" Genji said. His nervousness morphed into laughter that rubbed off on Hanzo.

"I won't grace that with a response," Hanzo said and shook his head. He then gestured with his hand as he said: "I'll lead you to the dining room. Father's waiting."

"Like I don't know my way around here," Genji said.

"You're a guest now, not a resident."

Familiarly enough, Hanzo started walking without checking if the guests followed him. Genji bowed to Zenyatta before they began following, and he said:

"That means Father told him to get us," Genji said.

"Yes, I would believe that your Father would not tell you your home is no longer your home," Zenyatta said as he hovered next to Genji towards the room with a heavy door. Hanzo opened the door for them and walked in first, looked left, and gave a tense smile to whoever was in there.

"Father, Genji and Tekhartha Zenyatta are here."

They entered the dining room with high windows and heavy drapes, and Genji looked into the same direction as Hanzo did, to look his Father in the eye. His heart beat against the back of his throat, echoing in every corner of his skull.

Sojiro Shimada appeared as a tall man after Zenyatta had assessed his height from the initial shortness that him sitting in a wheel chair gave him. His short grey hair had been sleeked back and it shone with the wax that had been used to put it in place. He wore a grey sharkskin suit that had a faint glow to it, and the little bit of stubble on his cheeks blended in well with the intentionally grown moustache and beard around his mouth. The beard was still darker than the hair on his head, but one stripe of light grey decorated his chin hairs. His leather loafers had been shined no doubt the day before, if not that same day.

Everything about him shone. Even his wheel chair seemed to have been wiped carefully very recently.

Zenyatta could detect barely any dust from the entire room. For Zenyatta, extravagance and simplicity did not go together most of the time, but in this room and in this house, those two qualities seemed to walk hand in hand. In Sojiro and Hanzo's clothing, in the décor, in the colour schemes, everything.

"Genji," Sojiro said. His voice was healthy and loud, and he leaned forward to get up from the chair. His legs wobbled a little before he did.

"A good leg day?" Genji smirked and walked closer to shake hands with his father.

"It'd be a shame if it wasn't when you're here with us," Sojiro said and rose taller than either of his sons when he walked to grab Genji's hand. He then pulled his younger son closer and with his other hand, patted his upper back.

"Oh, the cologne," Sojiro said and smiled. Deep creases appeared in the corners of his eyes as well as symmetrical dimples to his cheeks. "The gift from your aunt?"

"Yeah, that one," Genji said and shrugged. His legs shook from the embrace, but his heart still swelled up. Hanzo folded his arms and looked towards the steaming hot pot on the table.

"You didn't even try it during the holidays if I remember right," Sojiro said with a glint in the corner of his eye. Zenyatta saw how Genji had inherited the eyes from his father, and how Hanzo had inherited the rest of the facial features. The two young men spoke with a local accent, while Sojiro's own speech had more foreign-based emphases on different syllables.

"No," Genji said and shrugged. "But now I did."

"Excellent. I'll send her the regards."

Then, Sojiro's attention was drawn to the Omnic behind his sons. Zenyatta bowed his head and placed his palms together.

"And I believe this is your friend, Tekhartha..." Sojiro said and urged Zenyatta to introduce himself. His eye contact did not scare Zenyatta, even though the Omnic saw the strength and determination that drove the older man.

"Tekhartha Zenyatta. I am most pleased to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is all mine," Sojiro said and gave his hand so the Omnic could shake it. They exchanged a short handshake from which Zenyatta's image of Sojiro being quite the strong character was only confirmed.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell my guest is gonna be an Omnic, you wouldn't have had to..." Genji said and gestured vaguely towards the dinner table. Sojiro sat back on his chair and seemed more than pleased to be back in it as he stretched out his legs.

"Oh, don't worry. The world is changing, for the better I hope." Sojiro nodded towards Zenyatta. "All of my sons' friends are welcome in this house. It is an honour to meet you, Tekhartha..."

"Zenyatta," said the guest. "You may just call me that."

"Excellent. Now, we can settle around the table. I'm sure you're hungry," Sojiro said to Genji.

"When isn't he?" Hanzo said as the four of them approached the round table in front of a large mirror. Genji pushed him a little.

"What?" Hanzo exclaimed. "Am I wrong?"

"No," Genji said.

"Such is the life of a student," Sojiro said. "I hope you don't go hungry, though," he added with worry. The genuineness of it stung in Genji's heart. Zenyatta touched his shoulder briefly when he sensed it.

"No, I don't," Genji said. "But I don't get much sukiyaki either."

Genji rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and appointed a chair to Zenyatta as he chose his own from across his Father. Out of habit, both him and Hanzo eyed at their father subtly, to not stare openly, as if to look if he managed off of the wheel chair onto the dining chair without much hassle. And as always, he did, but those few times he had not still lingered in fresh memory. Then the brothers exchanged a look that to Zenyatta looked like a confirmation of everything being okay.

The table had been set in a manner that to Zenyatta looked casual and high class at the same time. The tableware was white and blue with dragon patterns on the bottom, and the tea pot and the tea cups had been made of clay instead of porcelain. The pot steamed from the heat underneath, and the mushrooms and the beef and everything else brought a unique scent to the air, a scent that was familiar to Zenyatta who had spent a lot of his time strolling through street food corners.

"I wish you could taste this," said Sojiro and started mixing an egg with his chopsticks in a small bowl. "It's the boys' favourite, we used to have sukiyaki dinners together with the whole family, cousins and everyone included."

"It has a wonderful scent," Zenyatta said.

"Genji has not told me much about you," said Sojiro. Genji's throat dried and he tried to not stare, _damn it young man do not stare_ , but it was hard to not join Hanzo in observing the situation. Genji figured that he was the one on top of the situation, he was the only one who knew why this dinner was happening in the first place. Hanzo lifted an eyebrow and rolled his eyes as he looked down at his own mixing of the egg, and this grated Genji's already raw, emotional nerves.

"Do you have a family?" Sojiro asked.

"I have a brother. His name is Tekhartha Mondatta," Zenyatta said.

"Hmm, I see," Sojiro said. "Older or younger?"

"We are of the same age. We were manufactured and booted up at the same time."

"Hmm, I have always thought that you Omnics are not as different from us as you may seem," Sojiro said. His polite warmth towards Zenyatta did not ease Genji's nervousness.

"We are different in many ways, but perhaps not the most fundamental ones."

"True. Hmm, I don't think we have ever had an Omnic guest in this house. Have we, Genji?"

"We haven't," Hanzo replied in his stead and rolled a piece of meat in the egg with his chopsticks. "We have only had them maybe at work."

"Quite," Sojiro said. "So it's an honour, Zenyatta."

"It is an honour to be here. I have had the pleasure to get acquainted with your son Genji for quite a while now, and it is wonderful to finally meet his family."

"I bet he's complained about us a lot," Hanzo huffed. Sojiro gave him the side-eye, but turned his gaze back to Zenyatta.

"Where did you two meet, anyway? At his university?"

Genji felt each of his muscles contract as his hormones that made him ready to run filled his entire body. He knew better than to run, though. He knew he would have to end his upper hand on the situation and let everyone know why he was there. But wasn't it hard now that he saw how well Sojiro and Zenyatta got along?

"No, no," Zenyatta said. "We met when Genji came to seek advice from me. You see, I am a psychic advisor."

"So kinda like a spiritual councillor?" Hanzo asked. Zenyatta nodded.

"That sounds about right, yes."

Genji kept on mixing his egg in the small bowl and looking at the way the yolk swirled after the tips of his chopsticks. The lines and the bubbles of the eggs pleased him more than the way his father and his brother made him feel.

It moved in his stomach as a big blob, it pushed aside the butterflies from before and ignored Zenyatta's presence. He barely remembered having kissed Zenyatta, he barely remembered any of the mindfulness exercises they had performed together. He tried to reach out to them, but his attempts fell too short. His father's cologne and the familiar appetizing scent of the sukiyaki should have comforted him.

Should have. Oh, curses, it _should have_.

What they did instead was feed the lump of unnecessarily dark feelings inside of him. The question, the plan he had thought of, took a step back as he tried to push the feelings away. The blob grew hands that evolved into long tentacles, and they delivered their emotional weight to every corner of Genji's body. The corners of his visual field blurred out any clues of anyone perhaps staring at him.

The worst thing was that this was no unfamiliar feeling. He did not HATE his father and he DID care about Hanzo, and yet, being there in the middle of them caused him raw and powerful anxiety. And that, alone, brought Genji great shame, especially when he had come over for more than just a friendly dinner.

Even when Father talked about other things than Genji, Genji felt like he was being judged. Even when Hanzo looked at him only because they had not seen in a short while, Genji felt that Hanzo thought of mean things about him. He would not have called it paranoia, but perhaps a related phenomenon of that.

 _I'm braver than this_ , Genji thought.  _I've grown so much from what they want me to be._

Half a minute of his Father's and Zenyatta's small talk had gone past his ears. He turned towards Hanzo who had been staring at him all this time, his well plucked brows wrinkled in either worry or annoyance. Genji figured it was annoyance, because Genji had never been much for small talk or dinner table conversations. He had always mostly focused on eating, and immediately asked for permission to leave, to do his own thing. Father, of course, had always allowed it, leaving Hanzo squinting his eyes in irritation, when same rules did not apply to them both.

Though Hanzo could have also asked, figured Genji. Why hadn't he, if it annoyed him so much? Jesus, since when had he done so much overthinking during just one dinner - just the first pieces of sukiyaki?

"Your work sounds interesting," said Sojiro Shimada. He and Genji exchanged an eye contact that sent cold waves around Genji's body, waves of fear. It was as if he had known this to be coming.

Because then, Sojiro turned to Zenyatta and said:

"I would imagine that your guidance can be useful for our future teacher here."

Sojiro Shimada uttered every syllable with care, or at least Genji imagined that he did. Sojiro's stern voice hammered the words into Genji's brain mercilessly and hard, and Genji was not sure whether the tone that was used was intentional or not. He could not ask. He had no space or even the right to ask about his Father's choices of words.

But there was one. There was  _one_ person he could ask, one person he knew to be responsible of this. The anxiety formed a name in his mind as he turned his head around quickly at Hanzo. Hanzo looked about as puzzled as Genji did, and a piece of meat hung from his chopsticks mid-way to his mouth. A yellow droplet of egg fell into the bowl beneath. Genji did not see confusion on the bearded face, however - he only saw what he thought he did.

" _You_..!"

Genji sprung up and the chair he sat on fell against the carpeted floor. Chopsticks fell to the table, they clinked sharply against the porcelain bowl of egg. Hanzo stumbled up, but could not evade Genji's shove, and he fell on his behind on the floor.

"Genji," Zenyatta said and reached towards the young man, but he was just a tad too far.

"You told him! You promised me that you wouldn't tell him anything!" Genji yelled. His volume rose without control and his pitch jumped high at the end of his sentence. Anxiety tightened its strangle grip around his throat and urged him forward, as if relief was in standing above Hanzo, as if it would grow from blaming him for everything.

"I didn't-"

"Then who did! You fucking- How- why would you- you promised!" was all Genji could say. He repeated the words a couple of times and walked towards Hanzo who had stood up, who showed no fear towards Genji. Yet, there was a healthy amount of concern for the explosive reaction. Genji tried to shove him again, but Hanzo took a hold of his wrist and pushed him away. This seemed to only encourage Genji who in the lack of judgement through his betrayal could only think about revenge.

He had wanted to tell his father himself. He had wanted to confess on his own, to seem like a good kid, to be able to apologize with more integrity, to be able to ask for a favour without much guilt. Hanzo had ruined everything, Hanzo _must_ have ruined everything.

_Hanzo ruined everything._

"You're so fond of messing with my life, aren't you?" Genji hissed. Hanzo pointed at him with his index finger.

"Oh? What about you, then? _You're_ fond of hurting me in your own insecurities, yeah?" Hanzo said. His voice was thick with hurt.

"You promised to not tell him!"

"It wasn't Hanzo."

Father's stern voice was the only thing that got through Genji's brain. Genji turned around to see his Father stare at them, his dark wrinkly eyes now in the shadow of a deep frown. Sojiro set his chopsticks on the table in front of him, looked at their tips as if trying to find the words. The brothers held their breaths.

"Genji, I am not angry at you."

Genji squinted his eyes. His heart could have burst through his chest plate, splattered across the floor and still it would have beaten frantically in panic in front of Genji's eyes. Hanzo straightened his shirt collar and listened with interest just as keen as Genji.

"No..?" Genji repeated weakly. It came out as nothing but a whimper.

"Hmm. I just wonder why you didn't tell me about your studies," Sojiro asked. "It took very little from me to find out where you study, you know. I'm not disinterested in your life, Genji. And I would like to know why you chose to lie instead of telling me yourself."

Sojiro Shimada barely moved his lips when he spoke. It was as if the man talked with himself, as if he was voicing thoughts that had long been circling his brain.

Genji opened his mouth and tried to find the words. Instead of fear and anger, his insides were flooded by a wave of sadness. A sea of regret.

Hollow chimes of Zenyatta's orbs broke the silence. Zenyatta hovered above the chair and demanded attention in his gentle manner.

"If you excuse me interrupting this conversation that has nothing to do with me... I may have an answer for you, sir."

Sojiro looked up at the Omnic monk. Curiosity twinkled in his eyes. The Iris told Zenyatta to proceed, so he did.

"I have been Genji's spiritual councillor for quite a while now. I know that he has been gathering the courage to tell you for some time, and today he was planning to tell you the truth."

Genji wondered if Zenyatta was bluffing - or if he had known the meaning of this meeting beforehand. The Omnic was a scammer by trade, so either was possible.

"Sir..." Zenyatta continued. "He just simply does not wish to disappoint you, for he looks up to you so much. And you as well, Hanzo."

"Tsch." Hanzo rolled his eyes and folded his arms.

"It may seem ridiculous after this short conflict," Zenyatta said and looked into Genji's eyes. He was pleased to see that the anger had dissipated. The anger that had been reflected from that one highly emotional call.

 _"My brother killed me_."

"But he does love the both of you. He trusted you, Hanzo, with this secret. And he looks up to you, Mr Shimada, enough to feel, perhaps, a bit scared of your reaction if he is ever to disappoint you."

"My sons could never disappoint me," Sojiro said and looked at his two boys. The two boys who were now men, and who had always had rivalry. But not to this degree. "Except, perhaps, laying a hand on their own brother."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Genji said and bowed his head down. "I didn't mean to burst like that in front of you."

"Hmm, it's not me who you should apologize to. But is it true?" Sojiro said, disregarding the topic of apology to go any further. "Is this why you came here? To tell me about your teacher studies?"

This was it. This was the moment. Genji's whole body shivered as he tried to come up with an excuse to not ask yet, but he had none. If he could not do it then, he could not do it ever.

"That," Genji said. He did what he had done before - he took a deep breath, and relaxed his shoulders while exhaling. "And one more thing."

"This should be interesting," Hanzo mumbled. Sojiro gave him a stern look.

"Let him speak, Hanzo."

"It's alright," Genji said. "My friend, Zenyatta... Has suffered a great loss. And I brought him here so he could tell you about it. About his life, his... His goals and aspirations."

Zenyatta's first reaction was to feel flattered. He felt honoured enough to meet the father of his friend, and to meet with the brother who Genji spoke so much of. But to be the sole reason for the meeting, this was an honour Zenyatta had rarely received. He places his hands over his chest.

Genji stuttered forward. "But... We know that now. Zenyatta, he, he and his brother have helped me a lot during the course of this... this past few months. It's become clearer to me what I want to do with my life, and he helped me build up the courage to come here today."

"What is this loss you spoke of?" Sojiro asked and looked at Zenyatta.

"Our home got broken into," Zenyatta said. Genji was quick to add:

"And all of their savings were taken. _Dad_ , they've saved for years to get enough money for plane tickets to Nepal."

"Nepal?" Sojiro repeated. Hanzo kept on watching curiously.

"My siblings, my friends, all of them have left, except for my brother Mondatta." The sorrow that echoed from Zenyatta's voice encouraged Genji more. He was going to do the right thing.

"They wanna get out of here," said Genji. "Dad, you know that TV channel that broadcasts all those psychic shows that are all total bullshit? Yeah, they, they have to work there for shit pay, and now all that money was taken. They won't catch the burglars either because Mondatta and Zenyatta are robots."

"Ah..." Sojiro nodded. "Hmm, is that where your phone bills have been leaning towards?"

"Yes," Genji said without a shadow of shame. "But no more after today. In fact, I'm here for a trade-off."

The flattery turned into a suspicion in Zenyatta's circuits. His orbs moved closer to his neck. One of them clicked against the metal quite loudly, but everyone's attention was on Genji.

"Yeah, I've been studying education stuff." Genji spread his arms. "I wanna be a teacher. And you can't change my mind about that, no one can, that's who I'm gonna be. I'm gonna help kids become their best selves and be a better teacher than the teachers Hanzo and I had. But..."

Genji turned towards Hanzo and looked into his eyes. Guilt stung in his heart when he noticed the dark rings around his older brother's eyes clearer than ever before. And those eyes resembled those of Sojiro Shimada, a tired man himself.

"... I also wanna make sure that Hanzo can always lean on me."

"That's all I want," Sojiro said.

"So I'm gonna pick up accounting as my minor."

Hanzo lifted his eyebrows almost to his hairline. "You're joking."

"I'm not. I... I wanna be ready to help you the best I can, because this... This firm means a lot to you. And you, Father," Genji said. His father's dark eyes were no longer stern, but warmer by each passing second. "It's your life's work. Mom also was proud of it, and, and she did her everything to help you keep it up."

"While she had her own interests on the side," Sojiro said with a smile. "Fair enough. I see that I can't force you to do anything, you're like a hurricane..."

"A force of nature that cannot be contained," Zenyatta chimed in.

"Hmm, much like his mother." Sojiro chuckled. "What is it you want in return, then?"

"Pay for their tickets."

Genji nodded his head towards Zenyatta, but could no longer look at him. "Pay for his and his brother's plane tickets, so, so they can get to Nepal. It's all they've ever wanted, and aimed for, and I can't stand looking at my friends suffering after... After everything was taken away from them. Father, imagine, imagine if your savings, your company was taken away from you."

When Genji spoke, Sojiro observed Zenyatta, his floating orbs and his emotionless face. Genji knew from this that his words worked.

"I've looked up a flight, too. It leaves in two weeks, I have the price and everything written down."

"This is something I... I cannot accept," Zenyatta said.

"No, yes, yes you can." Genji still did not look at him. "Your dream, Zenyatta. I know it's your dream. Your... Your family and your friends are all there."

When Genji returned no eye contact, Zenyatta's gaze found Sojiro next. From the businessman he had assumed to be stone-cold, he saw warmth and compassion.

"Is this true?" Sojiro asked. "Your dream, your goal."

"We have a group of us who are looking for spiritual enlightenment," Zenyatta said. "Our brothers and sisters have found a temple for us to reside in."

"Does your group have a name?"

"We call ourselves the Shambali."

Genji stepped closer, placed his hands on the chair Hanzo had left deserted and leaned forward. He demanded his father's eye contact with determination he had no doubt inherited from Sojiro Shimada.

"Father. Help them. Help me help them. I won't ask for anything else ever again, and, and I'll start the accounting class... already in a few days."

"You're really bad at that," Hanzo said. Not with mockery, but with worry.

"Yeah, but I'm gonna take a class that prepares me for the upcoming classes."

"Hmm." Sojiro stroked his beard. "You're really fixed on this."

"I am. Dad, look at him, he, he can't live here without misery, this place, this place sucks for an Omnic robot! His boss is a dick and they have to beg on the streets to get enough money for both rent and for their savings that were robbed from them. Their hard work, vanished into thin air."

Genji used to his advantage the fact that he had always had more room to be emotional than Hanzo. He knew that if something was important to him, his father would not deny it from him easily. And from the way Sojiro looked at Zenyatta, then at Genji, then at Zenyatta, Genji knew he had gotten through at least partially.

"Are you ready to go whenever?" Sojiro asked Zenyatta.

"It's all we've been prepared for all our lives," Zenyatta said. Doubt gnawed the thought of leaving. Hope sparked within him and left everything else in its shadow. They could finally escape to the cold mountains of Nepal that had fresh air and perfect peace for dedicating to the Iris.

"Hmm." Sojiro nodded and looked at Genji in the eye. "Are you prepared to have less allowance for the next few months?"

"I am. And I promise, no more gargantuan phone bills." Genji tried to smile when he said it, but everything else took over it and he sounded as serious as ever.

"No more?" Sojiro repeated and gave the smile Genji couldn't.

"No more," Genji said, slowly and calmly.

"Then we shall get the tickets right after we've eaten." Sojiro gestured for Genji to sit down. Hanzo and Genji both obediently followed their father's instruction, and sat quietly around the table. Genji avoided Zenyatta's gaze like the plague, like it could have made him say or do something wrong. His entire body, however, was far more relaxed now after he had gotten it all out of his system.

And Zenyatta noticed this. Yet, some tension remained.

"Let's do it now," Genji said. "Get it over with."

"Oh, fine, fine," Sojiro laughed. "Hanzo, could you be kind and bring my laptop?"

"Sure, sure."

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

That was how easy it had been. Later, Genji would wonder why he had been so nervous.

In the night when alone in his bed the night before his first accounting class that would eat all his time in the upcoming two weeks, he thought about the date of departure they had chosen. He found the source of the nervousness. The next question was, why had he not cast a single look in Zenyatta's direction?

Why did the success make him so sad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you feeling the family drama

**Author's Note:**

> \- Thank you so much for reading AND for all your comments & kudos, they always encourage me to write more. You can also hit me up on my [Twitter](http://twitter.com/CountRazoff)!  
> \- My fiancée Amb is partially responsible for this fic AND this AU. Check out [some of her drawings](https://twitter.com/little_amb/status/894174263451766785)! Here's a [Twitter moment](https://twitter.com/i/moments/899316495209156608) with more art & other things!  
> 


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